All I Need is a Miracle
by Vathara
Summary: Between life and death, there is a moment to choose: peace - or let the demon rise once more... AU fix to Reflections, crossover with Gargoyles. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

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All I Need Is A Miracle

A/N: Rurouni Kenshin and Gargoyles belong to their respective creators. No infringement intended. RK is mostly from the manga, with dabs of anime, and part of my "Urban Legends" AU (expanded backstory to "Spin Cycle"). As far as RL history goes, "Anjin-san" refers to William Adams, an English ship pilot who ended up a samurai in service to the Tokugawas in the early 1600s, before they closed Japan. Japan did send troops into Korea in 1894 against the Chinese (among other reasons); European powers of the time believed the Chinese would throw them right back out. That didn't happen.

Someone asked for a fix to "Samurai X - Reflections". Here we go....

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Thank you for everything. Thank you. Goodbye. Kaoru....

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Shinta....

A voice out of memory, haunting in the peaceful dark here below the cherry trees. A wrench of a sword from hands too small to hold it, a warm body lying over him, protecting him....

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Shinta, listen to me. Your life has not been chosen for you, so you must live. Please, Shinta - live for me!

He had. Was it not enough? He had lived, despite pain, despite guilt; lived, and been happy. Though part of that happiness had been paid for in Kaoru's pain, her constant smile meant to lift his heart, her peaceful acceptance of their fate....

...Wait.

Darkness thickened. Dragged at him.

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Wait, he insisted, a flicker of will driving back that long-sought rest. _Kaoru. Peaceful?_

The first master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu had been many things since he'd met her, but _peaceful_ wasn't one of them. A smack on the head with a bokken, that's what he would have expected after worrying her so; not tears and a last grasp and chill ground below falling petals.

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Something is wrong.

Darkness firmed its grasp. The world was fading away from him; scent, touch, the ghosts of ki, even the last whisper of wind dying away.

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Something.

Is wrong.

With Kaoru!

He tried to reach out, tried to touch-

Nothing left. Illness had burned away all his strength, despite Sanosuke's nursing; it'd taken everything an ex-swordsman turned healer had left just to get back to Tokyo....

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Battousai wouldn't care.

An odd thought, but true. The hitokiri didn't care about wounds or grief or illness; the assassin only knew _target_ and _path to target_, and heaven help anyone who got in his way.

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No. I am a peaceful man. I vowed to bury the hitokiri forever. I have earned my peace - earned back the name I was born with.

Earned it, yes. But Kaoru had paid so much, and asked so little....

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I am not-

The ragged sigh of Kaoru's breath... stopped.

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Kaoru!

In the depths of his soul, fury howled.

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Kaoru! Anata!

Rattled the chains he had bound it with. Snarled, thwarted by old oaths.

He could hold those oaths, even now. Hold them one faltering breath more, while the dark conquered all. While Kaoru slipped away....

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No more, the healer thought. _No more._

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No one else dies for me....

Later he would look back on that instant and compare it to how the world must have felt, that first bright instant the sun goddess Amaterasu stepped out of her mourning cave. But then-

Then he knew only fire, and rage, and air like a knife in his lungs.

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I will not _die here!_

Battousai was awake. And _angry._

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I will... protect... my wife!

Air shuddered down his throat like icy razors. Battousai opened blazing eyes to the fading light of sunset, the sun-faded pink drift of cherry petals over his tattered gi - and over the too-still form next to him.

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Kaoru! No!

No. Her ki still flickered in his senses, like a star through clouds. Leaning near, he felt the faintest of breaths tickle his ear. "Kaoru." He gripped the shoulder of her kimono. "Kaoru!"

She didn't rouse. Only lay there, limp and fading. His love. His wife. His companion in life's battles....

Old reflexes stretched awake, seized hold when rational thought faltered. His sword-companion was injured on the field, and the enemy was near. "Lean on me," Battousai whispered, reaching out with the same strength of will that had faced down the Wolf of Mibu. "I am here."

He felt his ki sweep through the fallen woman, enfold-

Something shaking, and afraid, and torn by darkness. A black, oily energy surrounded Kaoru's familiar ki, hissing at him as he reached toward it.

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You dare? The thought was swift as a sword strike, slashing fury through dark coils. _Begone!_

Darkness oozed back, just a little. Loosened its grip on the prize he sought; something rare, and bright, and infinitely fragile.

Triumph rushed through him as he gathered Kaoru's still-breathing form into shaking arms, fierce and hot as the thrill of sweeping defenders from a Shogunate warship. _I have her._

But how?

More important - for how long?

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Shelter, healing, revenge. Battousai ticked off priorities as he rose, swaying on his feet with Kaoru's weight. He wasn't near well....

But while he could move, he would fight.

The walk back was a blur of shadows and silence; any person could be a threat to the precious burden in his arms, and without his swords, threats were better avoided. He only roused fully once the doors were shut safe behind him and Kaoru was nestled into warm blankets.

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Shelter, the hitokiri acknowledged, rubbing at arms that inexplicably itched. _Healing...._

Memory said a reputable doctor had been consulted, to no avail. Medicine was useless.

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She's being attacked in her ki, Battousai realized, looking over the black swirls still clinging to his wife's energies, darker and thicker wherever illness had left its red marks on Kaoru's skin. _That's why I could fight it. Who would do such a thing? How do I stop them?_

His fingers scratched at flesh before his will overrode them. Why did he _itch?_ Arms, chest, face; all burned as if he'd stepped too close to festival flames....

Battousai stared at white shreds dangling from his fingers, blinking at dead skin that had hours before been angry red with illness. _Sunburn?_

No. The skin underneath was pale, healthy. Unmarked.

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Impossible. The sight was a chill down his spine; more so when he scraped at what had been another streak of red, peeling back more shreds to expose flesh that might have never been ill. _I was dying. Will or not, there is no way - nothing human could-_

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Demon-child, his victims' voices hissed from memory. _Youkai in human form._

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No! I am not - I cannot be-

Battousai snarled, crushing the rurouni's protest. What he was or wasn't made no difference. Kaoru's life hung in his hands, and he knew no way to save her....

Wait.

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Legends say youkai would sometimes take human lovers, Battousai recalled. _To often bitter ends, for human and youkai would rise against them, and try to kill them both. The youkai by force, and the humans by magic and deadly poison._

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And when their human loves fell deathly ill, the youkai would nurse them with their own blood....

The rurouni shuddered in his soul. _You'd risk Kaoru's life on a fairytale?_

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Was it a fairytale that left you bleeding from Kiyosato's scar? Battousai hurled back. _Was it a fairytale that had the Shinsengumi cursing Choushuu's redheaded demon to the night skies, every time you rescued the Ishin Shishi by impossible feats? Was it a fairytale that you had no strength or memory until Sanosuke fed you a tiger's death - and you_ felt _that death as you tasted the flesh, tell me you did not! Are you a Hiten Mitsurugi master? Are you?_

...Yes.

Then what is the key to the succession technique? Battousai demanded.

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...The utmost will to live. Something shivered in the part of him that was rurouni, buried strength rising from an early grave. _Akane told me... I had forgotten...._

"You must survive to honor those who did not," Battousai whispered the words grief and terror had engraved on an eight-year-old's memory. "You must _never_ give up." _Kaoru is dying - and we have_ nothing _to lose by trying!_

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...Do it.

He'd been a healer without swords, but a tanto had never been far from him. Battousai gathered Kaoru's feverish body into his lap, bracing himself for the cut. _Shallow... we want blood, not damage._

A sharp pain, and crimson beaded up. "Kaoru." He pressed welling red to her lips. "Kaoru, please."

Slowly, ever so slowly, her tongue touched her lips. Licked. Flinched from the coppery taste, blue eyes opening in exhausted confusion.

Darkness snickered about her, sensing Kaoru's refusal in the flux of ki about them. Pressed inward, snaking toward her heart.

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No! "Live," Battousai snarled, forcing the wound back to her lips. As if from a great distance, he felt his eyes melt into gold, ki crackling about him like leashed lightning, washing hair from red to inhuman scarlet. He would not lose this battle, not even when his foe was Death itself. "Fight, woman! You've never given up in your life. Live!"

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Trust shimmered in her ki. Gathering her strength, Kaoru licked at crimson. Swallowed. Licked again....

It felt like flying.

Battousai cradled her in his arms, feeling his ki wrap around hers like silken cords, displacing the darkness. It howled, and it bit, and it snarled at him-

And was gone.

Kaoru sighed, slumping against his shoulder in boneless sleep. Snoring.

It was the most beautiful sound he'd heard in years.

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She's alive. Battousai brushed back fever-damp dark hair, feeling the healthy warmth of her cheek. _She's going to live._

And by the way he itched, so was he. _Better bind this before I scratch it deeper_, he grimaced, winding a clean bandage over his wrist. _Don't know why I'm-_

Sleep hit him fast as Saitou's Gatotsu.

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Somewhere in Korea.

A set of I Ching sticks clattered over a chalked circle, rattling back from the green glow above chalk as if they'd hit a solid wall. Under an emerald silk cloak, dark eyes studied their fall, bird-bright and wary. A gnarled hand reached out to touch one stick. Violet sparked from dark wood, limning the small sorcerer in a twilight glow. "Hmph."

Violet wings folded over her ivy-green cheongsam, Demona smiled at the scattered sign. "Crisis." The gargoyle's ruby lips curved cruelly. "How sweet."

"Danger and opportunity." A thin trail of smoke lifted from the tip of a black-clad Chinese man's cigarette as he waited in the corner of this hidden house. "It would seem you've won, Dragonfly."

"Hmm." The sorcerer shook his head. "Check your sources in Nippon, Li Tang."

"Not certain of your own magic?" The black-clad Chinese intelligence officer stepped into the lantern light, smirking. "Even with a demon at your side?"

"I know my magic. As I know that of every witch in our wall. And I know it took him a long time to die," Dragonfly said flatly. "What haven't you told us, Li?"

"Nothing. You know what we know." Li Tang shrugged. "Seventeen years ago he was a great sword-master. Some sort of hero in Japan. He and his rag-tag allies broke your fellow dark feng shui masters' spells, defending Tokyo's Circle of Eternity." The Chinese spy shrugged. "But that was a long time ago. He was a dying man when Meiji's government brought him here to inspire the troops... and thanks to you and yours, he is a dead man now." Silent as a shadow, Li slipped away.

"Perhaps," Dragonfly murmured as shimmering wards sealed the outer door.

"Your magic is lethal, old one," Demona observed coldly; no need to play the part of an enslaved demon away from watching eyes. "Especially with my added spells from Europe; spells no Japanese mage could have a counter to. What do you fear?"

"My curses are lethal to humans." Dragonfly smiled thinly. "As you know."

Indeed she did. Dragonfly would never have bargained with her had he been able to kill her instead. _A pity for you the Weird Sisters' curse has made that impossible_, the immortal gargoyle thought coldly. "Then our bargain is complete." She extended a clawed hand. "The eggs."

Dragonfly waved her off. "Not yet."

"I tire of you, old man...." In a bound, she was on him. Blue claws snagged in silk, lifting the sorcerer from the ground as if he were a bale of feathers. Her tail lashed like a cat's before the kill. "The eggs!"

Staring into crimson eyes, Dragonfly swallowed. Sweat beaded on his forehead as talons pressed against his jugular. "Once Li Tang reports Himura dead."

"You dare-"

"Slay me and you will never find them, gargoyle." Fear, heady fear in his eyes... but the dark triumph behind it turned her rage to bitter ashes. "They wait in sleep for a true ally of the Dragon Throne to rouse them. Without the emperor's seal, you will have _nothing_."

Growling, Demona released him.

The old sorcerer picked himself off the wooden floor, straightening silk robes as if he had all the time in the world. "Be patient, Lady Demona. Just a little longer. Prove yourself in our war to cast these Japanese tyrants out of our ally, Korea, and you shall have the treasures you seek." He smiled, a shape of shadows and secrets. "And more besides."

"The life of a new clan is all I seek, sorcerer." Demona sniffed. "Ally, indeed. You would rule these people as surely as your enemies across the sea."

"And that is as it should be," Dragonfly nodded. "For we are the superior people."

"Of course." Demona smiled in her turn. What did she care for the humans and their petty wars? Who ruled here was no concern of hers. She would fight on any side, aid any cause, so long as more humans died. And Dragonfly knew it.

But he had her loyalty. For now. Dragonfly and his fellow enchanters had in their care the one thing no one else could promise her; spell-shrouded eggs, hidden away by a clan that had died for the emperor centuries before, awaiting the touch of loyal hands to wake them. New life, a new clan, to raise and shape as she would.

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A week, the gargoyle thought coolly. _Perhaps two, for the news to reach here._

A short span of days, compared to all the centuries alone. She could wait. She could. Until this Himura's death was known, and Dragonfly placed the first egg in her waiting hands.

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And then, let the humans tremble!

----------

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The trouble with birdsong is, it comes too early in the fucking morning.

Kenshin blinked in pre-dawn darkness, freezing as he realized what he'd just thought. _Oh gods... tell me I didn't._

Below the rurouni's cultivated calm, Battousai's dark fury roiled once more.

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I broke my oath. Oh, kami, no-

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Hurt echoed up from that dark part of his soul. Hurt, and the thirst for revenge, and....

Kenshin held himself still, almost not daring to breathe. Was that... love?

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Kaoru.

Warmth, from the part of him that even now was a ruthless assassin. The desire to hold and protect; to kill for her... to die for her.

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He... I... love her?

Kenshin shook his head, disentangling himself from Kaoru's hair. He started as faint starlight showed a snowfall of white shreds wrapped in dark strands; apparently he'd scratched in his sleep. _If I didn't know better, I'd swear a nest of snakes had been here._

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Yet surely it's too dark here to see that....

Too dark for the past fifteen years, perhaps. This had been more than enough light during the Bakumatsu.

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Night seemed near as light as day, only the colors faded... when did I lose that?

When did I forget how much I missed it?

Setting Kaoru down on the futon, Kenshin rose and stretched. And winced. Everything hurt.

But - it was a _good_ hurt. Like the day after a fierce bout, when he'd mastered one more technique; like bringing all he cared for home from one more battle, injured, exhausted, but _alive_.

Kenshin wrinkled his nose at the bitter scent of sweat and illness. No need for Kaoru to wake to that.

Dusting off skin that seemed to have flaked everywhere, he set about opening every door and panel. _Wind off the river_, he thought, breathing in the fine mix of scents, eyes half-closed to tease out details he hadn't been able to distinguish in who knew how long. _Smoke, and the Akabeko's fresh garlic, and creosote of telegraph poles...._

And a happy flicker of ki, as Kaoru roused enough to watch him from sleepy eyes.

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Alive. He stood in the doorway, wrist bandaged, face turned toward sunlight to breathe deep of dawn. _She's alive._

Her ki flared with fear.

"Kaoru? Beloved?"

"Come here." Kaoru struggled to sit up. From the frustration on her face, she was still weak as a kitten; but only weak. There was none of the slump to her frame that had marked the terrible, grinding exhaustion of their illness - and _nothing_ in her ki of surrender.

And he was by her, one swift, surprised blur of movement. _How did I - never mind._ "What is it?"

Kaoru laid a hand along his cheek, studying his eyes.

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What is it? What does she see?

"You're..." She hesitated. But the fear was fading out of her, replaced by wonder.

He took her hand in a comforting grip. Picked up her hand mirror. Gave her a hopeful smile, and looked.

And sat down next to her. Hard.

Sparks of amber still flickered in violet eyes, echoing the shifts of Battousai within his soul. Illness had peeled away like shed skin, leaving the cross-shaped scar fresh as it had been at Toba Fushimi. And the face that bore it-

It was like staring across the gulf of years, to a wide-eyed ex-hitokiri's face in well-water.

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The last time I looked so... I had just unsheathed my sakabatou the first time....

"This is not possible." For once, Kenshin could not control his shock. "This is-"

"-Not unexpected."

"Aoshi." Kenshin didn't even look up. A sense like moon through clouds, a ki trained to be scattered, inconstant, near impossible to read save in the heat of battle.... it could be no one else.

Shinomori stepped out of the shadows, long trench coat flowing around him, concealing the paired _kodachi_ he carried everywhere. Still tall. Still cool. Still elegant and untouchable as night itself; eyes like forest shade, hair dark as moonless winter sky.

Still no older than the last time Kenshin had seen him, over a decade ago.

Lips slightly parted, Aoshi tasted the air. "Chinese witchery," the _onmitsu_ leader said plainly. "The same as that which struck at Misao, and Tokio. Megumi dodged it wholly, fox that she is... one last, vile vengeance against those who defended Tokyo's Circle of Eternity. They must have been years preparing." He laughed once, without mercy. "A pity they will have so short a time to enjoy it."

"Go elsewhere, Aoshi," Kenshin said numbly. "This one is... too old for such battles."

"Last week, yes. Today?" Aoshi stepped closer. "I came as soon as word reached me of how ill Kaoru-san truly was. I knew if anything might goad you to break the Battousai's chains...."

"What-" Kenshin put the mirror down, hands trembling. "What has happened to this one?"

Kaoru punched him lightly in the arm. "Stop that!"

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My Kaoru. Warmth filled him, despite the uncanny situation. This was his true beloved, she of the shinai and fiery temper; the master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu who'd spent years breaking a humble rurouni of _sessha._

"Yes." A thin smile touched Aoshi's face. "I would stop that. Cousin."

"Oro?" Kenshin squeaked.

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"Cousin?" Kaoru gasped.

"Distant cousin, perhaps. It's hard to be certain. But I know this." A darkened blade sliced bloodstained cloth. Beside him Kaoru stiffened, prepared to put pressure on if the wound reopened-

The horizontal slash had already knitted itself closed. As if it'd been healing for days, not hours.

"Legends can be true, Himura," Aoshi said matter-of-factly. "And the legend of the Battousai... the demon of the Revolution, the assassin whose blade fed on the lives of men, whose speed and power was beyond any _human_... is truer than most."

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"Stubborn," Aoshi said softly, watching scarlet hair slide over Kaoru's shoulder as their carriage bounced through Tokyo's early-morning traffic. Himura Kenshin was a boneless bundle in his wife's arms, sleep having reclaimed him almost the moment the carriage door had closed. _Even in the faintest sunlight, that hair glows like fire. Hanyou, beyond doubt._

But not inu-hanyou, from the scent. The faint tang that marked youkai blood had not the warmth of canine fur, but an edge like hot steel.

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Not kitsune or wolf, then, Aoshi thought, dissecting odors no longer clouded by the rurouni's determination to hide Battousai at all costs. _Likely not neko or koumouri, either. Which tends to throw my theory that his parents were ninja released from their clan to live as simple farmers straight into Edo Bay._

Not all ninja had youkai blood, of course. And in most of those who did it didn't run strongly enough to create hanyou. But the Aoiya onmitsu had passed down enough stories to know the treasure they had, when a true black dog had been born to the Shinomori clan.

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And no one wondered why a thirteen-year-old was head of Edo Castle security, Aoshi thought wryly, testing Himura's scent on his tongue. _It's not any scent I know from ninja clans, but it seems familiar-_

Memory clicked, and green eyes almost widened. _Samurai._ Kyoto _samurai. Not the royal family, but lines near it, the fiercest of those who made their names in the East against the emishi. Almost Tokugawa._

A samurai's scent in a deceptively small frame, ruled by a mind that clung to an honor neither samurai nor ninja in spirit. A man who leapt like a mountain cat, flew like an eagle, and struck with strength to match the Wolf of Mibu.

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The demon of the Revolution, Aoshi recalled, _and this when hanyou were drawn to Kyoto by the score by the scent of blood. Only two swordsmen ever faced him and lived, and one of those I know is wolf-hanyou._ Left-handed - as samurai of old were _never_ left-handed, on pain of dishonor - Saitou Hajime was wolf to the core.

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The dragon of Hiten Mitsurugi, Saitou called him. And that skin, shed like outworn scales.... Cold sweat trickled down Aoshi's spine; as if he'd reached out to rescue a drowning kitten, and found himself holding a half-starved wildcat instead._ Kannon's mercy on us all. He's ryuu-hanyou!_

A dragon whose scent even now ached of illness, when no mortal sickness should do more than unsettle a hanyou's stomach. Aoshi shook his head. "He nearly did kill himself, didn't he?"

"Don't say that!" Red highlighted her cheekbones, though Kaoru kept her voice to a low whisper. "He was sick-"

"He was. But not the way you think." Aoshi picked up a long bundle from the floorboards, face cool and impassive. _This will not be pleasant._ "Let him hold these."

Recognizing the shape, Kaoru recoiled. "My husband's not a swordsman anymore, Shinomori-san."

"Your husband," the onmitsu leader said deliberately, "Is a hanyou. A creature of magic who vested his youki in his sword-skill, then denied it to try to live as a human who had never tasted blood." He held out the wrapped bundle once more. "We have no time to have a sakabatou forged. He's still weak. Fragile. Without these, I swear to you, he _will_ die."

Blue eyes met his, searching for any hint of deception. Kaoru set her jaw. "Give me the daisho."

Granting her the best bow he could manage in the moving carriage, Aoshi placed the bundled swords in her hand.

Easing her arm out from under Kenshin, she unwrapped the hilts. Unsheathed katana and then wakizashi in turn; just an inch, just enough to examine razor-edged steel. "They're beautiful."

Aoshi heard the aching sorrow in her voice. "There are still some swordsmiths who keep the old skills." _I am sorry, Kaoru-san._ "And though we have eluded them for now, there are still those assigned to watch Battousai, even when all accounts paint him on his deathbed." _I have no choice, not if I would repay Kenshin for the gift of my life._

"Watchers? The government?" Indignation crowded out her grief. "After all this time, all he's done for them? _Why?_"

"Himura Battousai is a hero, Kamiya-san," Aoshi said dryly. "A hero and a revolutionary, and so a naked blade at Meiji's throat, no matter how he claims to have put aside the sword. After all, if a government has been overthrown once, why not twice?"

"But Shinta - Kenshin would never-"

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Shinta? Green eyes narrowed. "They will never believe that, Kaoru-san. _Never_."

Kaoru winced. "So that's why you took us from the dojo."

"As of now, the rumors paint your husband dead. I consider it best to encourage them." Aoshi studied her. "Are you hurt?"

"No," she said softly, resting the daisho against her husband's shoulder. Clenched fingers into fists, as Kenshin murmured something in his sleep and curled around steel like an old friend. One hand neared her lips, as if she could still taste Himura's blood. "No, I'm... better." Blue eyes widened. "But Kenji - Megumi-"

"I've sent a message to your cub by one Myojin can tell him speaks the truth," Aoshi informed her, wishing he could be two places at once and see the young Tokyo samurai's face when Misao walked through his door. "As for Takani-san...."

----------

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"Hiyah!"

"Ooogh...."

Panting, Dr. Takani Megumi quit struggling in her politer captor's grip, content to watch his more plainly dressed partner turn interesting colors and stagger back from her knee. Quick dark eyes took in every detail of these concealed rooms, set in the back of a traditional inn on one of Tokyo's quieter streets, searching for the best way out. Paper walls would not hold in her scream... but the casual way the inn-servants' eyes had slid past her on their way in told her more than the painted screens was traditional here. _They won't help; they won't even see me. Their loyalty is to those who hold me. If I get out, it'll be on my own. Have to thank Kaoru for those self-defense lessons... while she can still hear me._ "I've told you-"

"Two of your patients are ill and missing, and you fear for them," the polite young man gripping her wrists repeated patiently. "Yes, we know, Takani-sensei."

"Then let me _go-!_"

"No, Takani-sensei." He managed a half-bow, never slacking his grip. His clothes might be Western in style, but that regretful civility was pure Edoko. "My most sincere apologies, Takani-sensei, but the okashira has ordered us to ensure you remain here, so you may tend the patients he is bringing."

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The okashira. Megumi felt a chill that had nothing to do with spring winds. _They're onmitsu._

Somehow it wasn't surprising. There was an air about them that reminded her of her time in the Aoiya; outward normality, underlain by a subtle scent of shadows and secrets.

And yet, for all that, she felt safer here than on Tokyo's streets. There was something wrong in the air about the Kamiya dojo; the same wrongness that had driven her to leave Aizu just as much as the message of Kaoru's illness. A feeling of threat, of danger, that had led the usually rational doctor to pour a line of salt around her futon every night and cross and re-cross river bridges daily, like a fox trying to throw hounds off the trail. A sense of being hunted by predators that wanted not just the flesh, but the soul itself.

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You'd think I was being haunted by evil spirits... I haven't seen Misao in years. I wonder who is okashira now? "What patients?" Megumi sighed. _Act as if they've worn you down. It may give you the moment you need to strike-_

"The okashira said-" Here her captor hesitated, attempting to hide confusion behind a bland face. "That you would know who won you free from the spider's web."

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Spider's web. Megumi shivered, keenly aware she still remembered that deadly recipe for the purest of opium. If it hadn't been for Kenshin and the others....

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Sanosuke? she thought wildly; Kenshin had said something about the quick-tempered fighter lingering behind in China... or maybe Korea, Kenshin hadn't been altogether coherent. _Or Yahiko?_

A sudden flurry of activity shadowed the screens of their room; quiet orders were given, and the shadows of the guards outside moved away. The shoji opened-

And Megumi's hands fell nerveless to her sides as her captor released her to bow. _It can't be._

Tall, dark, and expressionless as ever, Shinomori Aoshi carried in a small form wrapped in his trenchcoat. Behind him came a burly onmitsu in a gi and leggings, carrying another small person wrapped in a concealing veil.

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Women? Megumi frowned as the veil parted just enough to give her a glimpse of dark hair. "You'd better have a good explanation for this, Shinomori-san. I have patients to see-"

"Yes. You do." Aoshi's gaze swept the others. "You've done well. Leave us now."

Bowing, the onmitsu left.

Aoshi waited until the sounds near them died away, then gestured toward the veil. "Her first. I doubt he's woken yet, and startling him might be... unwise."

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Him? Megumi shot the onmitsu leader a dark look, and reached for the veil.

Only to be beaten to it by a slim, shinai-worn hand. "And you say you hate house calls," Kaoru grinned at her.

Megumi stared, jaw dropping.

Kaoru blinked. Waved a hand in front of her face. "Hello...."

The doctor picked up her jaw. _Professional. I'm going to be professional._ "You were dying," Megumi said accusingly.

"I know." Kaoru's smile turned briefly sad. "You didn't tell me, but... I knew."

Megumi moved in and pushed black hair away from her patient's throat, looking for redness, bruising, any of the marks Kenshin's illness should have left behind. _Pulse is good, temperature normal, breathing sounds even... I don't believe this._ "Kenji said the two of you went out under the cherry trees yesterday. And you didn't come back, and he couldn't even find a trail." Her throat tightened. "I was looking for a _body_."

"You mean two bodies." A grin blazed across Kaoru's face.

__

Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I- Megumi froze. _No. It's impossible._

"Carefully," Aoshi said as she moved toward the concealing trenchcoat. "He's just waking."

__

He? Heart in her throat, Megumi bent to peel away a layer of coat.

Swift fingers snatched it back.

Kaoru snickered.

Scowling, Megumi moved back in. Yanked on the white lapel.

Fast as a striking snake, the hand whipped concealing cloth back, the as yet unseen lump nestling deeper into warm folds. "Five more minutes, Okami-san...."

__

Kenji? No - the voice is wrong. But definitely a sulky teenager; she'd know that early-morning grumpy tone anywhere. "I don't know an Okami-san," Megumi said dryly, "But you're coming _out_ of that coat." Feet braced, she yanked the white folds away.

Swords, worn cotton, and a flash of scarlet tumbled to the tatami. "Oro?"

__

Scarlet. Not true red. Megumi's fingers clenched on white cloth as she took in that maple-leaf fall of red hair. To most eyes Kenshin and Kenji were a matched pair, small, slim redheads both... but to the doctor who'd patched up the swordsman for over seventeen years, the difference was night and day. "K-ken-san?"

"Megumi-dono." Violet eyes blinked up at her, lightened by flecks of amber. "I am sorry I worried you-urk!"

"Worried me? _Worried_ me?" Fist full of tattered gi, Megumi shook the swordsman in her grip. "_Yahiko_ worries me. That hothead son of yours _worries_ me. You - you stubborn, blind, self-absorbed - did you even _think_ what your wandering all over Japan like some damn fool _Kirishitan_ missionary out to kill himself for penance did to Kaoru, you-"

Slim fingers pulled at hers. "Megumi - _air_-"

"Oooo!" Still fuming, Megumi dropped him on the mat. "You _jerk!_ 'Japan needs me. I have to atone for my past.' Didn't you ever figure out that _we_ needed you? You-" Her throat closed on the words. Hot salt stung her eyes, and she bit her lip against the welling tears. _I'm a doctor. Doctors don't cry, it's not professional._

"Megumi." Familiar hands pulled her close, letting her tears soak his shoulder. "Forgive me. You are right. I have been a fool, and I have hurt you, as I never wished to." His voice shifted, speaking past her. "I never wished to hurt any of you."

"You asked me if you could go, and I said yes," Kaoru said softly. "I was trying not to be selfish. I should have been selfish. But you promised me you'd come back. And I knew you always kept a promise." Cloth whispered as she neared them. "But if you _ever_ try to go _anywhere_ again without me, I'm going to thump you so hard _Yahiko_ will be seeing stars!"

"Oro...."

Megumi smiled through her tears. _Now, that's the Kaoru I know._ She scrubbed at her eyes, pulling back from the redhead still eyeing his wife as if he thought a bokken would materialize from thin air. "Let's take a look at you."

"Undernourished again," Megumi muttered to herself as she poked and prodded the slender body, lifting his gi off his shoulders to study the flake-covered skin beneath. "What on earth?"

Kenshin shrugged helplessly. "It started last night, I think. Just before I - fed Kaoru my blood-"

__

You did what? Megumi wanted to demand. But bit the words back; whatever Kenshin had suffered from, Kaoru had already been infected. It wasn't as if he could have done her more harm.

"-Everything started to itch. And then I fell asleep. When I woke, it was like this. I don't know...."

"I think I do," Aoshi commented.

Megumi shot him a glance.

"When you're done," the okashira said evenly.

__

Hmph. Megumi went on with her examination, searching for any sign of the illness that had thwarted her best efforts to cure Kaoru. _No, no, and no. He's obviously_ been _sick; I've seen people in better shape after a bout of influenza. But he's not sick now. Why? Infection just doesn't vanish._

She left the bandaged wrist for last. Folklore or not, something seemed to have helped them both. She was not going to scold him over a few cuts-

Cloth fell away, leaving a bright red scar.

"That was - last night," Kenshin said haltingly.

__

Impossible. Megumi touched the healed cut, fingers registering the reality of new skin. Took a closer look at the familiar face of her most troublesome patient. Too familiar; an echo out of memory, of a long-ago panicked flight into the midst of a dice game where the only person who felt _safe_ was a swordsman who glanced up at her with startled violet eyes....

She gripped his chin now, peering into those same wide eyes. "Hold still."

His hand lifted; stopped, and moved away from hers with a visible effort. "Megumi-san, I-"

San, _not_ dono, _hmm?_ "Hush. And don't move." She didn't miss the trembling in his muscles, the way his left hand gripped a saya like a lifeline. Amber flecks danced in his eyes, threatening to set violet ablaze in golden fire. _And he's not - quite - holding on to the polite rurouni. Careful, careful, Megumi. He's close to the edge, and he knows it._ "You're safe now, Ken-san. Try to calm down-"

"No," Aoshi said flatly.

"Shinomori," Megumi warned him.

"No." The okashira's gaze was emerald ice. "Chaining Battousai is what nearly killed him in the first place, Takani. The hitokiri's fury is all that's kept him breathing. The fury... and the youki it raises."

Megumi's eyes bugged. _Youki?_ "Don't be ridiculous, Shinomori-san." _Why isn't Kaoru saying anything?_ "You can't possibly be serious-"

"I think he is," Kaoru said simply.

Knuckles whitened on the saya. "I am not a demon!"

Megumi flinched back, seeing violet melt into burning gold. _Oh, kami, protect me._

"Stop." The lack of emotion in Aoshi's voice froze her in place. "He won't hurt you, Megumi."

A hand found a hilt, and Battousai snarled. _"You don't know that, damn you!"_

Aoshi didn't move. "I know the history of Kyoto, Battousai. We haven't drawn on you. We're not your targets. You _will not_ harm us."

"The surety of the Oniwabanshu." The hitokiri's lithe form curled on itself, poised to strike. "You've been wrong before."

----------

__

Oh, damn, Kaoru thought.

Cold and immovable as stone, Aoshi was no help. And from the sickly pallor that had swept Megumi's face-

__

She thinks we're all dead, the swordswoman realized. _She knows Kenshin was delirious; she thinks the sickness drove him over the edge, and the hitokiri will kill us all._

__

So I guess it's up to me.

Kaoru walked into range. Met cold amber with warm blue, and reached out. "You won't hurt me."

Battousai stiffened, hands clenched on steel. Trembled.

"You won't," Kaoru said softly, seeing the fear for what it was. "The first time I saw you this way, you were trying to save my life. You knew what it would cost you, facing Jin-e, and you did it anyway. Because you cared. You always care." She laid her hand against his scarred cheek, firm and gentle at once. "I know you. And I'm not going anywhere."

"Kaoru." His voice was a ragged whisper. Amber searched her gaze, fearing she had stepped blindly into a lethal ambush. "I am not _safe_."

"And you won't be," Aoshi said levelly. "Not until the threat to Kaoru is dealt with. Dragons are very possessive of their mates."

"Dragons?" Megumi said faintly.

"Threat?" Battousai said more pointedly.

"Saitou and Misao will be here soon. I'd prefer to explain this only once." A ghost of a smile touched the okashira's face. "In the meantime... I hear the baths here are excellent."

----------

__

Aoshi's right, damn him.

Kenshin slipped into hot water with a sigh, resigned to the low murmur of profanity in the back of his mind. He'd been an impulsive, hot-headed fourteen-year-old when he'd joined the Ishin Shishi, started work as a hitokiri under the hand of a man caught in Choushuu's worst political infighting, and had spent most of the next five years surrounded by hard-fighting, hard-drinking soldiers, killers, and conspirators of all stripes.

All of which meant Battousai had a vocabulary that could turn salt-tanned sailors pale. And _very_ little compunctions about using it.

__

Fucking right. Sometimes you have to talk to people in a way they understand, _remember? Like you're going to have to_ talk _to that damn ninja if he doesn't keep his oh-so-pretty paws off your Kaoru-_

Kenshin held his breath and ducked under steaming water, trying to banish images of _talking_ that involved steel, blood, and a very skewered okashira. Thank the kami he'd always been the quiet type.

__

Too damn quiet. Worth making a little noise sometimes, especially when... oooh, yeah.

A familiar ki shone in the changing room, accompanied by muffled sounds of scrubbing. Still under water, Kenshin started thumping his head against the side of the tub. _This is not the time!_

__

Says who? Raw fury had a gentler, almost playful edge. _Come on, come on; you know you've got to come up for air soon. Why not now?_

__

I'm going to get pounded, Kenshin thought darkly, silently breaking the surface to breathe as a hand touched the door.

__

Hello? Wife? Last I heard, that was an invitation to drool.

__

I do not drool over Kaoru!

__

...Too damn bad.

And then even Battousai was silent, taking in the shadowed curves of a swordswoman, wet dark hair trailing over her shoulders, fresh-scrubbed skin cloaked in a damp towel. _My Kaoru._

__

You do notice, Kenshin informed his darker half wryly, _she's carrying a knife?_

__

Approval radiated from that unchained fury. Kaoru herself was lovely; Kaoru armed was even better.

__

Hopeless.

"Room enough for two?" Kaoru asked shyly.

__

Anytime, anyplace, anywhere-

"Oro," Kenshin murmured, moving aside to let Kaoru slip into the hot water. "Forgive. I am - distracted."

"Aoshi said you would be." She leaned against the side of the tub near him, shoulder not quite touching his. "We talked, while you were sleeping... about youkai, and hanyou, and how you control the rage without killing it."

Control the rage. Hadn't he spent the last seventeen years of his marriage doing exactly that? Refusing to kill; hiding the darkness he knew frightened Kaoru so. Feeling the fire that was Battousai flicker lower and lower, fading under the rurouni's will.

__

Don't. Even. Think about it. Dark fire burned in his veins, entrenching itself against any attempt to seek the rurouni's calm. _Peace almost killed you. You promised to live a long time before you promised to bury the hitokiri. I'm not going anywhere. Get used to it._

"He said you must have figured out some ways to - to balance yourself, or you'd never have survived to reach twenty." Her shoulder brushed his; sweet distraction. "But there are a few things he told me about that I know we've never tried. And since Saitou can drive you crazy even when he's trying to be nice - and we both know he _won't_ be, not if Tokio was in danger too...."

"Oro." Kenshin winced at the very thought. Saitou on a _good_ day could drag Battousai close to the surface. Right now....

__

Oro my ass. Let's see how he likes that Gatotsu shoved up his-

"Anything," Kenshin sighed.

"All right." Her hands shook a little as she retrieved the dagger. "I think you'd better... I mean, I don't know much about...." Kaoru took a deep breath, and tapped her shoulder. "Here. Aoshi says a little cut heals cleanly."

"Kaoru!" The part of him that wasn't avidly watching the muscled line of her arm move across her breasts was appalled; not only by the offer, but by the sudden rush of red hunger he'd buried for decades. "I cannot. I must not-"

"Then show _me_ how." Determination burned in blue eyes. "Aoshi says you probably can't pick out scents as well as he can - you're ryuu, not inu - but you can sense other hanyou by their ki. They're a threat to me. This will help." Her voice dropped. "Please?"

Pale, he took the blade. Razor sharp. As were all Aoshi's gifts, in their own way. "Beloved. I do not want to hurt you."

"I know." Kaoru brushed back wet red hair. "I trust you-" She sucked in a breath at the quick sting of steel. "I've always trusted you."

"Not quite always, oh huntress of hitokiri." Gingerly, he tasted the line of crimson against white skin, ready to pull back at the first rush of battle fury. Praying to any power that would listen that he _could_ pull back. Shedding the blood of his enemies had calmed him in the past, but Kaoru was no enemy....

__

Mine.

It was a taste, a scent, a shock of ki against ki. A reaching-out of Battousai's strength to meet and mingle with that pure flame he'd been drawn to since one dark night in Tokyo, when a brave young woman stalked the streets on the trail of a killer.

__

Not battle-fury, he knew, nuzzling up and down Kaoru's shoulder, licking the cut with each pass, making her shiver when lips and teeth grazed the hollow of her throat. _Though I wouldn't exactly call this_ calm....

Her hand touched his face, gently pushing back. He fought down Battousai's snarl of disappointment, lifted his gaze. "Kaoru?"

"Kenshin." Blue eyes were wide, dilated with the same fire rising in his veins. She licked her lips. "Someone could come in-"

"Someone had damn well better not." Caressing the skin of her throat, he claimed her lips.

__

Mine.

----------

ki - life energy.

hitokiri - manslayer, assassin.

anata - "you", used for husband, or wife.

youkai - demon, supernatural creature.

rurouni - wanderer.

kami - gods.

sakabatou - reverse-blade sword.

kodachi - sword mid-length between a katana and a wakizashi.

onmitsu - spy, ninja.

hanyou - half-demon.

inu - dog.

kitsune - fox.

neko - cat.

koumouri - bat.

emishi - aborigines, sometimes identified as the Ainu.

ryuu - dragon.

youki - demonic energy.

daisho - paired swords.

-sensei - master, doctor.

okashira - leader, head. "The boss".

shinai - bamboo practice sword.

tatami - reed or rice straw mats.

-dono - lord or lady, high-ranking person.

saya - sheath.


	2. Chapter 2

----------

"My parents are _where?_" Himura Kenji demanded.

"Safe," Makimachi Misao said firmly, eyes more on the pale master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu sitting on the dojo mats. Myojin Yahiko had taken one look at the slim young onmitsu, then a second - then sat down, _hard._

"You're a youkai trick," Yahiko said now, brown eyes locked on her as if she'd vanish if he blinked.

"It's 1894. Almost the new century," Misao pointed out.

"So?"

Arms propped on her knees, Misao grinned. "I always did like you, Yahiko-chan." _I just liked Aoshi-sama better. Hope Tsubame knows how lucky she is._ "And you're half right. But they are safe."

"If they're with Aoshi, they're _not_ safe," Yahiko pointed out.

"Maybe not," Misao acknowledged. "But they're alive, and they're healthy. We both know Himura-san can handle anything else."

"Shinomori Aoshi?" Sakabatou by his side, Kenji looked as if he were still trying to catch up. "The okashira?"

"Yeah," Yahiko said shortly. "You've heard our stories about him. And Misao." He eyed her narrowly.

Some of the confusion left Kenji's blue-violet gaze, replaced by wariness. "Isn't Misao supposed to be... um... older?"

"Your kaasan's age. Yeah." Yahiko gave her a very Sanosuke-studying-loaded-dice look. "Don't tell me _you_ took up Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu."

"Hiten masters aren't the only ones who drift in time, Yahiko. Though we've told the Aoiya to remind Hiko-sama to start drifting again; he's annoying, but it'd be a shame if he went out the same way Himura-san almost did." Misao's smile turned serious. "I'll tell you everything. But first - you've got to act as if they're dead. The mourning period, the funeral, everything."

"Because whoever's trying to kill them isn't done yet." Yahiko cursed under his breath.

Kenji's eyes narrowed. "I want to see them."

Misao shook her head. "Not yet."

The young Hiten Mitsurugi swordsman tensed. "Makimachi-san-"

"It's hard enough hiding one redhead. Two, and the rumors we've spread really will fall apart," Misao said flatly. "Right now, if we're careful, anyone who sees _him_ will think they're seeing _you_. But not if they see you both at the same time." She gave him a crooked smile. "Besides, Saitou's going to be helping, and you _know_ how hard it is for those two to work together without trying to kill each other."

"Ouch," Yahiko muttered.

"My father doesn't try to kill anyone," Kenji said dryly.

"Kenji-kun, you've earned that sakabatou," Yahiko sighed. "You're a great swordsman. You'll probably be one of the best masters of the Hiten ever. But take it from a guy who's been there." Yahiko leveled a serious look at the younger man. "You've never - _ever_ - seen your father get mad."

----------

__

So something finally woke Battousai's temper from the ashes. Saitou Hajime smirked as he stalked through Shinomori's inn, part-time spies scattering less from his policeman's uniform than from a swordsman's unsheathed ki. _This should be entertaining._

The warm scent of tea tickled his nose, underlain with a hint of sake as Saitou entered the okashira's room. "Early for that, don't you think?" _Since you and I both know you've no head for liquor whatsoever, Shinomori... my, my, what could so rattle the okashira's fabled calm?_ Canines flashed in his grin. _As if I didn't know._

Shinomori deliberately sipped his drink. Regarded the dark green liquid in his cup. "I think," the onmitsu leader said clearly, "I may have underestimated the... potential difficulties."

"Oh?"

__

"Shinomori-san!"

"Ah." Saitou glanced toward a familiar, hot-tempered voice. "I see Mistress Kamiya is feeling better." _So you're not a complete idiot after all, are you, Himura? I wonder how the rurouni saw sense long enough to claim what you are. That is, if it was the rurouni at all...._

"Where is he?" Kaoru's footsteps thudded nearer. "I'm going to pound him flat and use him as a tatami-"

Shinomori drained his cup.

"Maa, maa, Kaoru, it's only clothes...."

"Only clothes? _Only_ clothes? _I'll_ give him clothes, that kodachi-swinging-"

Kamiya's words whited out in Saitou's ears as she threw back the shoji, every sense suddenly overridden with a blaze of _presence_.

__

A swordsman is here. A hanyou is here.

A killer is here....

"You!" Damp hair caught back in a dark ponytail over her blue kimono, Kaoru jabbed a fist toward Shinomori. "First swords, now this?"

"Kaoru. Beloved." Kenshin put a gentling hand on her arm. "It is only clothes."

__

Only clothes, indeed. Saitou studied his old foe with a sense of dawning excitement, the wolf in him begging for a decent fight. _It's been so long._ Daisho, dark blue gi, gray hakama... add leather arm-guards and a high tail of red hair, and he'd have back that old enemy, the one whose strength and swiftness had pushed the Shinsengumi's skill to the limits and beyond.

__

Gods, but I've missed you, Battousai....

No. Not Battousai; not quite. The eyes were different. Gentler; amber flecking violet, but not yet burning clear.

__

Oho. Someone's in a temper today. This will be amusing. "I see Shinomori finally pried you out of pink," Saitou drawled.

"It was not pink!"

"No?" _My, my; I do believe you're counting to ten._ _Amazing you have that much control, Battousai...._ A waft of air brought him the delicate mix of scents around Kaoru, and the former Shinsengumi covered a wolfish grin. _No wonder Shinomori's rattled. I could have told him you're the first boulder of an avalanche, Battousai; nigh-impossible to shift from your chosen place, but impossible to stop once you_ are _moving._

As he was moving now. Governments and curse-casters beware.

"Keep your blades sheathed." Aoshi glanced up. "Misao will be here in a moment."

Another breath, and Saitou had picked out her scent as well; human, with the faintest touch of youkai that marked Aoshi's claim on her. Along with it came a taste of kitsune just filtering through a cloak of humanity. _So the weasel-girl and the vixen are coming with us. Hmph._

"Misao and Megumi." Kenshin relaxed a hair. "You... scented them?"

"Aa." Though now he could sense their ki, as Battousai obviously had a good five seconds before. _I always knew his range was greater than mine; it's how he eluded so many of our patrols. I suppose now we know why._

"Himura Kenji may be a genius with swords, but he still hasn't mastered following people...." Misao stepped into the room, green eyes widening. "Kenshin!"

The swordsman staggered back, arms full of happy kunoichi. "You're all right!" Misao babbled away. "I told Yahiko and Kenji you were, but I wasn't sure - the reports said you were _so_ sick - and Aoshi and I got better, but we're onmitsu-trained and you aren't, and I was so worried-"

"You're saying this isn't an illness," Megumi said levelly as Kenshin set the still-chattering ninja down. "That it never was."

"It mimicked one," Aoshi said, just as calm. "From the Aoiya's records, the best curses do, so they may kill without interference."

"Easy, little sister." Kenshin gave Misao a gentle smile.

"We're okay," Kaoru added, touching her shoulder in turn. "Really."

"But you're not!" Misao burst out. "Not yet. Didn't you tell them?" She threw a pleading glance Aoshi's way. "You've got to tell them. It was so close - if we don't get to the source now, they might try again, and it might _work_ that time."

"They who?" A slim hand hovered near a sword's hilt. "Shinomori. You said this had to do with the Circle of Eternity, yet I know you and Saitou were never involved in that affair." Red hair nodded toward the doctor. "And Megumi-san was only near the edges."

__

Ah. That _is Battousai_, Saitou thought, satisfied. "I was involved with you, Battousai. It seems to have been enough."

"The curse is using you as a keystone, Himura." Aoshi flipped open a bound notebook to a series of red and black inked diagrams. "From the miko my people have consulted, the worst of the spell was aimed at you and Kaoru. But hanyou are hard to kill; and while the enchantment tried to snuff you out, the energy you resisted spilled over into any... preexisting channels."

Amber-flecked violet blinked. "Channels?"

"Even when you don't kill, you leave your mark, Battousai," Saitou said dryly. "Anyone whose ki you've clashed with is at risk. If Shishio were still on this earth he'd have been incinerated by now. Your young cub's fortunate _he's_ never crossed blades with you."

"Yahiko." Kaoru covered her mouth with a hand.

"He's been with Hiko-sama, he should be fine as long as we don't let the curse get started again," Misao reassured her.

"But Sanosuke." Megumi paled, fingers clenching on her sleeve cuffs. "That rooster-headed _idiot_...."

"Appears to have bought himself some time with whatever he did to help Himura. How long...." Aoshi slapped his notes closed. "A train leaves for Yokohama in two hours. Misao and I will be on it." Green eyes glanced Saitou's way.

"Hmm. I've never been to Korea." Teeth gleamed in Saitou's smile.

"Wandering fool's probably going to need to be patched up _before_ I get a chance to stuff him in a coffin," Megumi growled. "I need my kit. Herbs, pestle, needles - Misao?"

"Just follow me, we've got it all," Misao nodded.

"I will come," Kenshin said softly. "But Kaoru...."

"Kenshin. Anata. Koishii." Kaoru cupped his scarred cheek in a loving hand. "When are you going to learn, the safest place for me in this world is _right behind you!_"

"Oro...." Kenshin blinked, rubbing a ringing ear. "Aoshi. There are two difficulties I believe you may have missed."

"And we can solve them both in Yokohama harbor." Saitou's smirk widened. "Unless you've forgotten how to hijack a government ship, Battousai?"

----------

"This isn't going to work!" Megumi whispered, feeling the warmth of Aoshi's hands cupping hers as they knelt in shadows of rice-bales near the dock. Orders snapped through the crisp dawn, soldiers and marines assembled in polished rows to board the next troopship for Korea and the face-off with China.

Emerald narrowed at her. "It will not, if you hide yourself in doubt, Takani."

"Let the fox-woman have her illusions, Shinomori," Saitou said coolly, unlit cigarette waiting in his hand as he watched the troops begin their march up the gangplank. "After all, isn't that how you choose to live, Battousai? With the illusion that you'll never kill again?"

"Saitou...." Kaoru's knuckles whitened on her bokken.

"That's not fair!" Misao hissed, keeping an eye out for stray longshoremen who might start taking apart their cover.

"Misao," Kenshin said softly.

__

He's still Kenshin, Megumi told herself, trying not to glance at changeable eyes. _Just - a little stressed._

Kenshin with killing swords....

__

Aoshi says he needs them to get better. You've seen enough ordinary _samurai go downhill without their swords to know it could be true. It's not just steel, it's half a swordsman's soul._

A soul Megumi had feared for since the day she'd realized the man's chosen sword-skill was tearing his body apart.

__

Only you didn't find any trace of that, either, did you, Doctor? Old scars and undernourishment, yes, like a half-starved teenager, but not a trace of that insidious trauma to joints and ligaments you found seventeen years ago. The kind of damage that just doesn't vanish.

__

Not for a human, anyway.

Megumi held back a shiver. Good as it was to see Kenshin well, to realize that one of her truest friends might not be human at all....

__

If it's true. If.

And that's what really tears at you, isn't it, Doctor? If _it's true, you've committed one of the worst offenses any doctor can. You misdiagnosed your patient, and you let your pride in your skills keep you from seeking a second opinion._

Even if that second opinion sounds like a grandmother's tale from the time of Warring States....

"Well, it's not!" Misao said hotly. "You didn't know you were hanyou, you couldn't have known what would happen when you made your first kill-"

"_Red hair_, Weasel Girl." Saitou's lip curled. "Unless his family had Anjin-san's lost lineage in their veins, what else could he have thought?"

"_What_ happened, Misao-chan?" Kaoru interrupted.

The kunoichi hesitated. "Well. It's a little... when humans die violently, their energies-"

"Youkai feed on humans, Tanuki," Saitou's voice cut across her stumbling reply. "Sometimes only on their good will, with the rice and fruits we offer the kami. Sometimes on sanity, or blood, or life itself. Hanyou can get by without all of that... unless they've drunk in the deaths of their enemies." A wolf's grin gleamed in the dawn. "Wean a cub from milk to meat, Battousai, and you know it can't go back."

Amber burned in violet; dimmed again. "Perhaps that is true. For a wolf."

"_Hitokiri wa hitokiri,_ Battousai. A dragon _will_ kill rather than starve. Especially when it's ill. And weak." Wolf-yellow eyes narrowed. "And _hungry_."

"That's enough!" Kaoru looked daggers at the both of them, turned a fierce blue gaze on Misao. "Kenji?"

Megumi winced at the raw plea in his mother's voice. And bit her lip, at the troubled shift of the kunoichi's gaze. "I don't know," Misao said bluntly. "So far he's fine. Meiji's time has been peaceful here. But he _does_ have youki; he couldn't master the Hiten without it. If Kenji ever ended up in Korea... a battlefield can pull hanyou into the bloodlust even if they don't kill."

"Any hanyou," Aoshi said coolly. "One taste of blood on killing grounds, and you seek it forever." He glanced back at the woman whose hands he still held. "As you have, since the night you tried to kill Kanryuu."

Megumi went white. _How did he_ know? _How did he know that I...._

Meat soothed some of the hunger; one reason she'd frequented the Akabeko with its foreign-influenced cuisine. For the rest... well, love-bites helped. On those rare times she had the chance for them.

__

Sanosuke wouldn't understand, she told herself yet again, heart hurting. _He'd never - for all his rooster roughness, he's an honorable man...._

But so was Kenshin.

"You have done this before, by instinct," Aoshi said matter-of-factly. "How else did you think you slipped my ninjas long enough to reach Himura in the first place?" A faint warmth touched the okashira's eyes. "Deception, Megumi-san. Think of trickery, and hiding, and how very clever you are...."

__

Trickery. A flame of anger burned in her breast; cold, desperate fury, spawned of years watching Kenshin and Kaoru tear each other's hearts to pieces, of all the long, tear-stained weeks of knowing she was helpless to do more than ease Kaoru's passing out of this world. Of watching love and life slip through her fingers, ever stained with the blood of her opium's victims. _I'll give you trickery, Shinomori Aoshi._

Megumi reached for the stillness at the center of her self, the chill consideration that let her walk over the bloody dead to help those still living. A cold fire she'd drawn on that day she'd decided to risk all and run rather than stay with Kanryuu; their guard had slipped, just for a moment, and all she had to do was make it through one door unnoticed. Just one.

__

Let them see what they expect to see. Let them see anything but what I truly am.

"Oh...."

Kaoru's soft whisper opened Megumi's eyes. _A firefly-?_

No; though the blue spark beat against her cupped palms like a living thing. A speck of sky glowing as it bounced off the barrier of her skin, prickling her fingers as it tried to fuse back into her flesh and blood.

"That's it." Aoshi moved his hands to fence in the spark before it could flee. "Courage, Megumi-san. This will only hurt an instant."

"Hurt?" Megumi managed; her mind seemed oddly far from her body. "You didn't say anything about-"

Green eyes narrowed, Aoshi touched the spark.

Blue flared into fire.

Megumi sucked in a breath as azure flame swept outward, first flickering over herself and Aoshi, then spreading itself thin to sweep the others. It changed as it grew, gaining hues and depth with every person it touched. The okashira added flecks of subtle violet; Kaoru and Misao, a sword-flash of ruby and a thorny, rose-petal pink. Saitou burned a steady green of sea-swept pines and silken banners, and Kenshin-

Azure hesitated, creeping over cotton and steel and a scarlet tail of hair gingerly as a lapping wave. Only blue, faded and faint.

It didn't _hurt_, exactly. No more than blood, draining from a painless wound.

__

So dizzy.

"Help her, Himura." Aoshi's glance cut like a shuriken. "We need your strength to seal the illusion."

"I... understand." But the swordsman looked stricken, drawing subtly back.

"No! Don't choose." Kaoru took his hand. "Wanderer, hitokiri - just be _you_, Kenshin. Just you."

__

Someone do something soon, Megumi thought crossly, heart fluttering at the sheer impossibility in her hands. _The whole dock's starting to spin...._

Emerald blazed under blue.

Megumi breathed in salt air, pulse steadying as the draining weakness stopped in its tracks. Green fire was like a bracing cup of morning tea, faint threads of gold laced through it like the glittery energy of caffeine. _That's Kenshin?_

Yes. Oh, yes. This was what she'd sensed that first moment in the gambling hall; sensed and known, then tried to dismiss to run, the night Hyotokko and Beshimi had attacked the Kamiya dojo. The strength and calm of a typhoon's eye, pulling her to safety as surely as it destroyed anything evil enough to stand in its path.

"Are we done yet?" Saitou drawled.

"Yes." Aoshi swept her shaking body up into his arms. "Follow me, and stay _silent_."

"We can't," Megumi muttered into his shoulder. Guards. Sailors. Soldiers and marines by the score; the cream of Meiji's modern armed forces. And here she was, surrounded by swordsmen the like of which had not been seen since Kyoto's bloody rain. "They'll see us-"

Misao's grin was a bright curve of mischief. "They'll see what they _want_ to see."

They stepped into sunlight. Megumi held her breath.

And all eyes slid past them, as if they were just another squad trooping up the gangplank.

----------

"Oough...." Face green, Misao leaned over the troopship's rail.

"I still think we should have taken the ship," Saitou growled, cigarette a point of red light in his hand as he glared toward the oblivious uniformed troops sharing the starlit deck with them.

"Uwaggh...."

"Quiet your anger, Miburo, or they will see us." Aoshi's voice was a whisper on the engine's drifting smoke as the okashira clung to the shadows near Misao. "Even ninja enchantments backed by a kitsune have their limits against those sensitive to ki."

"Hmph. Meiji troops." Saitou shrugged his shoulders against the sea wind, scanning the dark for any sight of land. "There's not a true swordsman in the lot of them."

"Gahhh...."

Saitou snorted. "After all, if they can't hear that-"

"Some few of them do," Kenshin observed quietly. "But there are enough others who do not take the sea well to lead them astray."

The Shinsengumi started, blinking at the blaze of scarlet that had appeared at his elbow. "Ah. The hitokiri returns."

"A will to move silently is not a will to slay, Saitou."

Saitou's lip curled. "Don't fool yourself, Battousai. I'd hate to have you dead on my hands twice."

"I do not deny that I can kill, Saitou." Kenshin peered out into the night, half-wishing he'd remained in their cramped borrowed cabin with Megumi and Kaoru. But Megumi was still shivering after watching Aoshi call blue fire from her hands - and Kaoru, kind and gentle soul that she was, had grabbed him by the ponytail and told him to go haunt the deck for a few hours. "And... if there is no other way to prevent this enemy from striking at Kaoru, and all those innocents whose path I have crossed, I...."

__

I don't want to kill.

The first principle of Hiten Mitsurugi: the sword swung in my name is wielded to protect the innocents of the world.

"Let your survival be their memorial."

__

I never knew how empty I felt without a sword at my side... not until I held daisho once more.

__

I don't want _to kill._

__

But to protect Kaoru....

I would not count the lives that crossed my blade.

"Taking the ship would only have drawn more attention than we wished," Kenshin said deliberately. "This way we will arrive with no warning to our enemies."

"I wouldn't count on that," Aoshi said dryly. "Whoever has cast that curse may be warned the moment you set foot on Korean soil, Himura."

"But not before," Kenshin replied, just as dry. "And this way we have time to observe the translators..." he cut his gaze across toward that glow of tobacco in the dark, "Before we follow your plan and kidnap one, Saitou."

"An excellent plan, I think." The Shinsengumi blew smoke into the wind, oblivious to Misao's renewed gagging as the scent hit her. "Unless you've suddenly developed the ability to speak perfect Korean, Battousai."

Kenshin rolled his eyes. "No."

"Two of them are junior officers. Not likely to be missed...." The lit end waved toward a sudden scuffle in the men. One skinny, dark-haired young man seemed to be getting the worst of it, holding something in a clenched fist as a group of muscled young men jeered and snatched at it, while a tear-streaked young recruit was held back by his peers. "Tchah! That one should have been left back on the farm where he belongs."

"Enomouto Benkai," Kenshin said thoughtfully, controlling the urge to leap into the crowd. _Wait. Only wait. The men are aggressive, but not vicious. He hasn't asked for help...._

And help was arriving regardless, in the form of a master sergeant's watchful eye.

"A year in, and still barely above private." Aoshi nodded.

Saitou glared at the both of them as the young soldiers dispersed, all pretending innocence. "You can't be serious."

Kenshin blinked at him. "Oro?"

"He's a _farmer_, Battousai. Assuming he can even tell which weeds to pull, with glasses that thick! Skinny, weak, all the grace the kami gave a tipsy tanuki-"

"And a good heart," Kenshin said softly, watching Benkai wriggle his fist open, handing over a crumpled love-note to the embarrassed recruit. "He shouldn't be in this war, Saitou."

"So you'll take him to ours instead?" Saitou arched a dark brow. "Not like you, Battousai."

"Ah, but we go not to war, Saitou." Violet glinted with amber mischief. "More like... a skirmish."

----------

__

So this is Grandma Cho's hometown. Marching with the rest of his unit away from the rail station, Enomouto Benkai took in the rainy outskirts of Seoul with bewildered eyes. Here was the nervous bounce of a black umbrella over a passing businessman in Western suit and clothing, there a porter in rough white top and trousers snoozing in a doorway on his _chigi_ carrying frame, over there wet dark brown piles in an alley that couldn't possibly be....

But by the stench, they definitely were. _Ugh._

__

I didn't think it would be like this. Grandma always looked so Japanese - so neat and clean! - and yet....

__

Why would anyone want to come back to this?

On the one hand, he could understand it; Yi Cho hadn't chosen to come to Japan. She'd been taken by force, back in the days when such things were still common, and Korean girls valued above others in the trade for their legendary beauty that rivaled the women of Aizu. It had been her good fortune to survive in the Willow World long enough to learn the ways of Japan, and snare the heart of Enomouto Mamoru, a clumsy but forthright farmer who had bought out her contract and given her lawful marriage.

She'd never hated his grandfather. Never. But sometimes, when the rains came, she would stare into the distance and grow very quiet.

__

As if she were watching for ghosts that never came. Benkai smiled a little, thinking how his ship had whispered with rumors of ghosts from stem to stern; tales of gleaming steel in the starlight, a kunoichi giggling before she vanished at dawn, a flash of red hair balanced on the crow's nest when the night watch swore nothing human could have passed them.

Not that he had reason to laugh at rumors of ghosts; no, not him! The rest of Japan might rush into the 20th century, but the people of Ishimura _knew_ there were creatures in the night.

__

And I guess it must be hard to be so far from your ancestors-

A sharp elbow to the side brought him back to the tents now going up. "Counting clouds again, Benkai-kun?"

__

Sergeant Uyeda, Benkai realized, seeing the weasel-flash of teeth in a thin face. Now he knew the _kami_ had it in for him.

Uyeda's family had been samurai, pensioned off by Meiji. He'd joined the military because it was expected... but also because his parents, like so many others, had had no idea how to make a living from money instead of swords. So far as Uyeda was concerned, farmers had no place in Japan's military. Especially farmers whose value was in their words - a samurai's province - rather than their skill at dying in battle.

"No, Sergeant," Benkai answered politely now. "Only trying to compose a proper letter to my family, that they may know of victory." _And you can take that however you like._

"Compose later." Uyeda slapped a sealed dispatch into his hands. "Leave that pack. This needs to go to Lieutenant Akutagawa in the neighboring camp."

"But my tent - my supplies-"

"Did you _hear_ me, Private? I said _go._ This is a priority dispatch, and the Lieutenant might need someone to play polite with the locals - backwards idiots that they are." He stepped back and gave a choppy salute. "Try not to screw this up, farm-boy."

Returning the salute, Benkai tried to ignore the sudden knot in his gut. _I have a really bad feeling about this...._

Four hours later, and it wasn't just a feeling.

__

I've been sent on a wild goose chase, damn it.

The passwords Uyeda had given him for the next camp were three weeks old; Benkai had spent a harrowing two hours at bayonet points as a suspected Korean spy before a master sergeant had bothered to sort out the problem and allow him inside. At which point he'd found out that while there were four lieutenants in the vicinity, _none_ of them were named Akutagawa. And the sergeant had, as he put it, no time to wipe a green private's nose while he figured out who'd screwed up his kami-be-damned dispatch orders.

__

"Which doesn't even have all the right seals on it - not that I expect you can tell, glass-eyes."

Benkai winced, hearing that snappish voice in memory as he left the camp and headed for a dry goods store in a darkening part of the unquiet town. All right, so even with glasses, his vision wasn't the best. Still, he'd been handed what he thought were official orders, it was his duty to get them through....

__

And I've got just one more lieutenant to check. It could _still be an honest mix-up. Maybe._

__

Though how anyone could write Akutagawa for Chikamatsu-

Almost of their own will, his feet stopped.

__

Something's... not right.

It wasn't anything he could put a word to; as the elders of Ishimura had always said, he really _wasn't_ much of a warrior. Though he'd tried, for duty's sake. But something about the way the dry goods store seemed to crouch at the T intersection of streets, eight-sided mirrors on the outer wall to reflect back the bad feng shui of its location glinting like tiger's eyes-

__

There! Benkai peered through the dark, wishing his night sight was just a glimmer better. _Something moved in front of the left mirror._

It was just a dry goods store. In the Japanese part of town, if a rougher Japan than Benkai was used to. A convenient place for Lieutenant Chikamatsu and his aide to arrange for supplies to fill in the gaps the army quartermasters might have missed. There was nothing sinister about it, even if those mirrors did look more Chinese than properly Japanese....

__

So why am I not walking through the front door? Benkai asked himself wryly, watching his step as he circled the shorter street of the T. A dark gap between gray walls caught his eye, and he slunk into one of the myriad of small alleys that led off every major road in this sprawling city. _I'm going to get myself brought up on report,_ if _I manage to avoid the cutpurses and don't get robbed._

A flicker caught his eye, and Benkai jerked his head up to scan the tiled roofs; no flammable thatch here, not on Japanese-built market buildings.

Nothing.

__

As if Koreans would run the rooflines like ninja. Mind on here and now, Private.

Left, right, a winding path over noisome bricks, and Benkai was behind the store he sought. It had to be the right place; a small, solid door was set into the wooden wall, perfect for discreet deals in forbidden goods. Inside, he heard the arrogant snap of military Japanese. "Have it arranged."

"So sorry, Chikamatsu-san, you can say no more?" A Korean voice asked. At least the accent sounded Korean, but under it Benkai caught something - off. A choice of words, a weird tonality....

"You have what you wanted," the lieutenant said roughly. "I've spent enough time here as it is."

"Ah, but what is a moment in time, compared to eternity?" The voice was almost a purr, underscored by the rustle of a silk kimono. "Time flees us, but honor is forever, is it not?"

__

Chinese, Benkai thought, gut knotting as his ear pressed against stained pine. That smirk in the foreign voice... no one would speak so openly of honor. Not unless they meant to imply the hell that was life without it. _He's trying to sound Korean - but that's a Chinese accent!_

He had to get closer. He had to talk to the lieutenant. He had to see this - to see there was nothing to the odd lurch in his heart, the chill in his hands and feet. Had to-

A hard hand wrenched his right arm behind his back, and cold steel nicked his throat. "You. _Stay still._" The edge of the blade pressed deeper. "Name?"

__

I'm dead, Benkai thought, hearing the cold interest in this second Chinese voice. This one wasn't trying to pass for Korean. "Anou..." _There's got to be something I can do._ His eyes searched the pitch black of the alley as he bobbed in the fashion of farmer to samurai, trying to gain a fraction of an inch from the blade. No use; his assailant moved with him, graceful as a willow whip, dark clothing just one more blur in the shadows. Not even the knife at Benkai's throat gleamed, all the exposed steel painted light-draining black. _There's got to be_ something. "Enomouto. Private Enomouto, please excuse, I'm so lost-"

"Bad karma."

Benkai sensed more than saw muscles tense, and tried not to gag with fear. "I have orders for Lieutenant Chikamatsu!" _It's not exactly a lie, they might be for him. And if you're doing what I think you're doing - kami, if you_ are, _lies, treachery, betrayal -_ _then you can't risk the lieutenant not getting official orders._

The knife withdrew.

Benkai remembered to breathe. Took the chance to glance over his shoulder at the shorter man; face flat and Chinese to the bone, hair cropped in Western fashion to pass unnoticed in a crowd, lips crooked in an ironic smile.

__

I told him I know Chikamatsu's here, Benkai realized. _And he knows I was listening. In a back alley. Alone. I'm the one who looks like a spy._

__

And all Chikamatsu has to do is take my orders from them, and swear I left him alive.

Dark eyes watched him, savoring his realization. "Bad karma, Private." Only the edge of steel gleamed.

__

No! Benkai kicked and writhed, glasses flying, knowing he only had an instant to break that grip before-

A bolt of pain drove breath from him, folded his knees like wet noodles as the Chinese ninja tightened his grip. _I don't want to die here!_

And darkness moved in darkness, with a wet _thunk_ of steel into flesh. _"Aku. Soku. Zan."_

The grip on his arm... fell away.

Benkai hobbled free of limp fingers, shuddering as the tall, blurry stranger pulled bloodstained steel out of his enemy. _Northern samurai? Here? Why? And in a policeman's uniform-_

"Next time, try yelling 'fire'," the samurai went on dryly, cleaning his blade in one efficient swipe of paper over steel. "It won't keep him from killing you, but even dunderheads like these have to turn out for the threat of a blaze."

Benkai swallowed, distantly wondering how he'd ever find his glasses in the litter. "I...."

"Hmph. A translator who can't talk. About as useful as a reverse-bladed sword." Looking over his victim, the samurai bent in a swift, efficient search of the corpse.

__

He knows I'm a translator? What the hell's going on? Shuddering, Benkai edged toward the door.

Something dark dangling from his hand, the samurai gave him a wolfish smirk. "Oh, I wouldn't go in there yet."

"Wha...?"

Running footsteps inside. Something hit the door, chest high. Wood splintered.

Silence.

"You let him get that far?" Casting the cracked door a look askance, the samurai _tsk_ed. "Did you at least check the upper floors as you came down?"

"I remember how to clear a building, Saitou," an unfamiliar Japanese voice said inside. Something heavy was dragged away from the door. "Aoshi?"

"Checking if these vermin have brothers. Set one to catch one, ne?" The half-playful gaze turned hard. _"Don't move."_

Just about to try sneaking out of the alley, Benkai froze.

"Better." A long stride, and Saitou pressed wire frames into nerveless fingers. "Skulking through enemy territory alone by night is idiocy enough. Alone and _blind_ - you'd deserve to walk into an assassin's knife."

"Maa, maa, Saitou, leave the young one in one piece." With a wooden moan, the abused door opened. Light spilled into the alley, the glow of an oil lamp gold and warm and welcome. "Inside."

__

Another samurai, Benkai realized, swiping dirt off his glasses as Saitou glared him forward; even at this distance, the translator could make out the blue and gray lines of an old-fashioned gi and hakama. _But what's that red thing on his head?_

Glass settled in front of Benkai's eyes, and he froze on the threshold. Red hair. Swords. And a cross-shaped scar.

__

My, the tatami mats are pretty this time of year....

----------

"It doesn't _look_ like he lost that much blood," Kaoru said dubiously, looking over the slice on the unconscious Enomouto's neck.

"He didn't," Megumi said dryly, swabbing the cut clean with carbolic acid. They'd turned the sign to _Closed,_ pulled the blinds, and propped Enomouto against the counter near a kerosene lantern. Saitou and Kenshin had dragged the surviving spy and traitor upstairs; she _really_ didn't want to think about the low whimpers echoing down from overhead. Or what it might mean if the whimpers stopped. "First life-or-death fight, most likely his first sight of blood - sometimes the mind just flickers out for a while. This should sting enough to take care of that... ah, I thought so. Hold still," she directed the groaning translator. "I just need to bandage you up."

"Doctor?" Benkai said, bewildered.

"Takani," Megumi said soothingly. "Takani Megumi. You're Benkai, yes? You're safe now."

Bleary eyes blinked open. "I had this horrible nightmare," Benkai mumbled. "There was a Chinese ninja, and a samurai, and-" The glassy gaze fixed past her. "Eeieee...."

Megumi glanced that way, and felt her own breath catch. _I didn't even hear him walk behind me._ "It's all right, Enomouto. He's a friend." Meeting eyes more amber than violet, she held her ground. "I thought you were staying with the prisoners?"

"It's a bit rank up there." Kenshin's smile had a harder edge than usual.

"Rank?" Kaoru asked, confused.

"Saitou is amusing himself." Amber glowed clear in one soundless laugh. "Chikamatsu started talking after one glare, but the spy may take some more time."

"Kenshin," Kaoru said softly.

The swordsman blinked, seeming to come back from a distance. "Kaoru. It's all right. He hasn't hurt them." His smile turned wry. "Though I don't think the best laundress could save the lieutenant's uniform trousers."

Benkai shuddered.

"Am I truly so frightening, Enomouto Benkai?" Swifter than Megumi could blink, Kenshin was past her, callused fingers gripping her patient's shaking hand. "I am flesh and blood and bone just as you are, that I am. And I mean you no harm. None of us do." He smiled, gentleness at odds with the burning gold of his level gaze. "We need your help, that we do."

"_My_ help?" Benkai was almost as pale as birch paper. "But... you're...."

"Himura Kenshin," Kaoru said firmly. "My husband."

__

"...Hitokiri Battousai," Benkai whispered.

Kenshin's head dipped. "I have been known by that name, yes." He shrugged lightly. "It is but a name, Benkai-san. A swordsman's name. It does not grant me the skills I need _now_, the skills you may aid us with; the tongue of this land, that we may find one who is lost, or seek out our enemies here, in this alien place. Which is not so alien to you, yes?"

Benkai shook his head, as if to clear it. "But you can't be Battousai," he said, confusion shaking in his voice. "You'd be at least fifty - you look _nineteen_. But-" He looked down at the fingers still gripping his.

"Ken-san?" Megumi asked in an undertone. Something was going on; she could almost feel it, like a prickle of static from layered blankets.

"You're not lying to me." Benkai dared to meet that amber gaze. "How...?"

Interest lit Kenshin's face. "Why has no one trained you in swords, Benkai-san?"

"Are you kidding? I-" The translator looked away. "That's not funny."

"Trust me, he doesn't joke about kenjutsu." Kaoru looked the translator over with a critical eye. "Nobody got to him early enough to work him past the clumsy stage, but... he has the sense?"

"I suspected as much when he nearly saw me on the roof," Kenshin nodded. "And now that he has sought within my own ki for deception, I know." He glanced at her. "Yahiko. Or you."

"I haven't taught in years. But now...." Interest glimmered in Kaoru's smile. "First things first, ne? We've got an evil feng shui master to find."

"Evil feng shui...?" Benkai said faintly.

"I know it sounds crazy," Megumi started.

"No, no; it's the first thing about this night that makes sense." Benkai shrugged, awkwardly finding his feet. "Korean or Chinese?"

Megumi gaped. "But - you-"

"I'm from Ishimura," Benkai said apologetically. "We see a lot of weird things out there. So there's an evil feng shui master, and we're here in Korea, and army scuttlebutt said the government brought the hero Himura Battousai to inspire the troops... of course."

"Of course?" Megumi leaned on the counter to steady herself. _The world leaves rational science and medicine behind to make itself a place of myth and legend once more, and all he says is, "Of course"?_

"Shatter the flag, and you break the warriors' spirit," Benkai nodded. "At least, that's what old Tomi always said."

"I should like to speak with this Tomi," Kenshin murmured. Cocked his head. "Aoshi returns."

She tasted the blood in the air before the rear door opened on soundless footfalls; Aoshi calmly grim as usual, Misao uncharacteristically sober. "Two," Shinomori reported simply. "They thought this mission was routine, but they had poisoned thorns."

Amber narrowed. "Then we have to move fast."

Aoshi nodded.

"_Someone_ had better explain," Kaoru threatened, bokken gripped fast. "You were going to bring them back alive so we could track them back to Chinese Intelligence-"

"That would have been an unacceptable risk."

Megumi shivered at the clinical tone of Himura's voice. _Battousai._

"Poisoned thorns means they would have suicided rather than be captured," the hitokiri went on coolly. "Possibly after stabbing as many of us as they could reach - it's almost impossible to strip a prisoner of them without a five to one advantage." Gold glowed under the scarlet fringe of Battousai's bangs. "It also means they're prepared for sudden death. Someone will know when they don't check in."

Blue eyes were wide. "Kenshin...."

"Kaoru." He took her empty hand. "This is not honor, nor land, nor any squabble of governments over who should decide Korea's fate. This is a battle for our lives. This _is_ the sword that defends. Our fate, Yahiko's, Kenji's - all rest on our blades. We _must not_ lose."

"Give her the pretty explanations later, Battousai." Saitou stalked downstairs, wiping a smear of blood from his knuckles. "Kamiya. We're mired in treason, espionage, and black magic. Count bodies after it's over."

Icy green met wolf-yellow. "He talked?" Aoshi said coolly.

"Enough." Saitou stared down a pale Benkai. "Enomouto. Your lieutenant's a traitor and your superiors are probably idiotic enough to tar you with his brush if they catch you. A true samurai might allow you to choose seppuku - or at the least, to remain here until the authorities arrive, so you could go nobly to your court-martial and your execution." The wolf of Mibu took one long step into Benkai's space. "But I have evil to slay. So you _live_."

Benkai gulped.

"Information we gained in Japan gave us some names," Misao spoke up. "And with any luck-"

"_Luck_ had nothing to do with it, Weasel Girl."

"-Saitou-san's gotten us a few places to start looking," the kunoichi went on, only lightly daunted. "But we don't know this place, and we don't know these people. Not like you do. Can you help us?"

"You want me to help you find one guy in the middle of Korea." Benkai blew out a breath. "Why not? But... how?"

"The curse found all of us through Himura," Aoshi said simply. "Get us close enough to the caster, and we will find _him_."

----------

__

I've got to be crazy, Sanosuke Sagara thought, steadying his brass binoculars to minimize any betraying flashes from the fading sunset. There was movement in the clearing below, an odd, nervous gathering around a silk-shrouded wagon; a rough score of Chinese soldiers bowing out of the way of a couple of guys in odd dark robes that raised every hair on the back of his neck straight up. _Chasing rumors and a_ feeling _all the way up China into Korea...._

__

Hell. Not like I've got anything else to do.

Except get to Japan, to see his best friend's-

__

Don't think about it, Sanosuke told himself fiercely, scrubbing at eyes that must have gotten - dusty, yeah, that had to be it. _You did - you did what Kenshin would have wanted. You got him on the boat. You sent him back to Kaoru. You did everything you could do._

Except nail the bastards who killed him.

__

Heh. And which set of bastards would that be, Sagara? The government? They've been after old revolutionaries a long time. The people? Kenshin could be old and gray and swordless in his grave, and they'd still be making gestures to ward off demons when somebody whispered the name "Battousai".

__

Not that you helped, taking off to see the world. Kaoru by herself couldn't talk Kenshin out of damn-fool ideas, you knew that. But if he'd had someone else from the Bakumatsu to talk to, someone to remind him why he married Jou-chan in the first place....

Damn dust. It was making him see things that weren't there, like the glimmer of steel and a flash of red hair-

__

Wait a minute.

Sano peered through the lenses, cursing the growing darkness. Damn it, that was red hair down there. Flowing flame, over womanly curves of silken green, an odd, fine-leather cloak of blue-trimmed purple, and-

__

Amida Buddha! Is that - it can't be - she's got a tail?

He almost didn't see the knife coming.

----------

__

Here. Demona bit back a crow of pure delight as nervous soldiers pulled back silk curtains to reveal a host of purple-spotted gray ovals, each padded with rice straw and glowing faint blue with protective magic. _They're finally here._

"Inside," Dragonfly ordered, silk-wrapped seal clutched in one bony hand. Armed men hastened to obey under the witches' watchful eyes, obviously ready to do anything to discharge their duties and get as far from their demonic ally as possible.

__

As if I care what humans think of me. Demona's lips curled. Taking their hidden workplace for her new clanhold was a good idea, even if it was Dragonfly's suggestion. It was good hunting land, far enough away from Korea's main cities for the clan to spread and thrive, the area was already attuned to sorcery... and it let the humans think they still had control over her.

Of course, she'd have to examine every spell and ward within the area personally to find whatever surprises the Chinese feng shui masters had left to ensure that control. It wouldn't do to let a mere human enslave more gargoyles.

__

No, Demona thought fiercely, accompanying their precious cargo into the spell-warded room she'd made ready. A lit brazier cast a soft glow of warmth over the room. Bright-patterned Indian cotton curtains cloaked the walls, shutting out stray drafts. Brought across two oceans and planted with her own two hands, Scottish heather scented the new rookery's air, mingling with the pleasant scent of warm goat's milk from the container hung above the tiny stove in one corner. _No human will enslave us with magic... nor with wretched feelings of_ loyalty _and_ protection. _Any humans within our territory will serve us, and_ only _us - and those who will not, we will kill._

As it should have been, so long ago. As it would have been, if only her love had abandoned his blind honor and _listened_ to her....

Demona kept her face cool and set as steel, locking all thought of Goliath and his accursed clan in the past where it belonged. Someday she might find a counter-spell to the Magus' curse, a way to free the last six of her lost Scottish clan from their stone sleep on Castle Wyvern. Someday.

Until then... she had eggs to raise. "This one first."

Nodding, Dragonfly touched the golden seal to the magic-sealed shell. Blue brightened, paling to starry white-

Shattered.

For a moment the egg simply rested in rice straw, still as stone.

__

Have I been deceived? Demona's heart seemed to freeze in her chest. _Is it only dead stone, never quickened to true life? Did the centuries under ward kill it?_

Purple shell wobbled. Chirped.

The immortal gargoyle let out a rough gasp. Drew in a breath. Touched the rocking shell, and crooned. "There, there, little one," she whispered in husky Gaelic. "Come on out, don't be afraid. Mother's here."

__

Crack. Crack, crack....

Spotted shell shattered, leaving a newborn watchbeast squirming and whining in rice straw.

"Ooooh, so beautiful, little one...." Demona rubbed off bits of shell and damp with a cotton towel, cradling the small form in her arms to marvel at every precious, tiny detail. Red, green, and amber mingled in its short fur coat, stripes smoothing into rings on the long, lion-tufted tail, mimicking a tiger in dragon's colors. Tiny horn buds dotted each brow, promising an impressively fierce adult face.

But for now, it was the cutest little thing she'd seen in centuries.

"There you are... I know it's not mother's milk, but it's the best we can do," Demona said softly as her new watchbeast kneaded her doeskin top with its paws, sucking at the leather nipple of goat's milk in her arm. "Now, to get that cowardly curse-caster to free your brothers and sisters...."

The room was suspiciously empty of human presence.

__

Confound the man! If he's thought to double-cross me-

But from the riot suddenly battering her stronghold walls, Dragonfly had other things on his mind than betraying her.

__

"Hiyahhh!"

"The Japanese?" Demona snarled an ancient curse. "Here?"

Gunshots. Yells. And a thunderous, cracking _crash_ that had to be a forty-foot tree coming down on top of half the men out there.

Demona set the little cub down and ghosted out of the room, every nerve suddenly alert. No explosion. No warning creaks. _Someone took down a tree in one blow!_

"I want him _alive!_" Dragonfly shrieked.

Snarling, she dropped to all fours and loped for the front door.

__

"Low bridge!"

If she'd been walking like a human, the flying form of a disarmed soldier would have caught her in the chest, knocking her back into the house - and possibly through three or four walls, given the crashes behind her. As it was, the wind from his passage snapped her wings out straight behind her, savage as a sudden updraft.

Demona tucked and rolled out the door, ears alert to the running feet of more soldiers joining the ongoing chaos, crimson-lit eyes catching a glimmer of poisonous green about Dragonfly's hands. _A Japanese martial artist_, the gargoyle realized, scrutinizing her tall, spiky-haired foe as yet another rifle shattered with one fierce punch. _I haven't seen a_ human _fight like that since Kyoto!_

Kyoto. The heroes of the Meiji Revolution.

Why did something about that seem familiar?

__

"Fall!" Dragonfly commanded, flinging out sparks of green to wreathe the struggling fighter.

Sparks clung and grew like ivy, tangling their target in a web of emerald. The fighter's arms slowed, almost stopped-

"I don't _think so!_"

Green shattered off white cotton; the martial artist snatched up a soldier who'd gotten too close and threw him into Dragonfly in a crunch of breaking bones.

__

He used his own aura to break the spell! Demona leapt into the air, catching the thin breeze to swoop down on her foe, howling like the banshees of her lost homeland. Humans never expected attack from above-

Only _this_ human did.

She folded a wing and matched his dodge, closing fast, before he could put his greater reach and leg length to good use. Strong as he was, he was only human....

__

"Futae no kiwami!"

The double punch to her side caught her off-guard. Skin and bone that could survive hurtling into a mountainside shattered like sandstone; she tasted blood.

Eyes burning crimson, Demona latched onto his throat. One slice of talons-

"Alive," Dragonfly's voice croaked to her through the drum of blood in her ears. "Demona, great lady, I need him alive!"

__

If you didn't have that seal....

The next four minutes were a blur of pain and blood, punch and counter-punch and keeping one hand - or tail - wrapped around her enemy's throat. He fought like a demon, like a gargoyle; like a wolf with nothing left save the rage to die with his teeth locked in an enemy's jugular.

But just as she felt herself dying from the internal trauma of repeated blows, he fell.

__

So he was human after all.

A space of blankness; Demona drew in a living breath of warm air, blinking her eyes open to see herself back in the rookery, with her foe in a limp heap, chains binding his hands, feet and red-bruised throat. "Who - what - is he?"

"An unexpected complication." Dragonfly's left arm rested in an improvised sling, and the bloom of paired black eyes showed where someone had hastily reset his nose. One old hand shook as he studied his cast sticks. "Look."

Demona thrust herself grimly upright, holding the watchbeast away when the hatchling wanted to gnaw on enchanted wood. The faint purple sparks were unmistakable. "Another of your victims?" She snorted. "I didn't think you were so reckless as to start another death curse before the first had run its course, old man."

"I didn't," Dragonfly said flatly. "This is Himura's curse."

Under chains, brown eyes blinked open.

"Himura's...?" Demona scowled. The battered, bruised man didn't at all match the scanty description Dragonfly had given her. For one thing, he was not short. "He's not Himura."

"You bastards," their prisoner said in Japanese, "What the hell did you do to Kenshin?" He tried to wobble into a sitting position; gasped, and fell back in a rattle of chains. "What the hell are you? A youkai?"

"The word is _gargoyle_, human," Demona sneered in that same language. "As for what we did to your precious hero, Himura Kenshin... why, we killed him, of course."

"You _bitch-!_" For one instant, brown eyes were filled with berserker rage. He lunged-

Crashed to the floor in a jumble of steel, face wracked in grief that transcended pain.

"No," Dragonfly said in grim Chinese. "We didn't."

"Sorcerer," she warned.

"Tchah! You think a muscle-bound idiot like that can speak a civilized language?" The feng shui master limped over to his prisoner, studying the man with eyes that saw more than flesh and bone. "He's alive. He's under Himura's curse. Which means Himura is _not_ dead."

__

My eggs. My clan! "That's impossible," Demona said flatly. "Even if this man had the strength to throw off one of your cantrips, nothing human can resist a death curse."

"Not all Japanese are human."

Unease wriggled down her spine. "Speak sense, old man. I was in Kyoto during the Revolution. The Japanese die like anyone else."

"Not all," Dragonfly said softly.

__

No, not all, dark memories whispered in Demona's soul. _Not that bastard of a Shinsengumi who caught you trying to steal the kappa's water-bowl... and not that red-haired fiend who saw you slaughter two of his comrades after you revived, and left your gutted corpse floating in the river._

By the dragon, but that had been a week she still longed to forget. An ancient scroll had led her to the bowl, key ingredient in a curse that would let her spread a waterborne contagion to everything that drank from the accursed river. Only the bowl was in the keeping of a high Shogunate official, high enough to warrant Shinsengumi guards even against demons in the night.

Guards that had died at her claws - all save one.

__

"Aku. Soku. Zan."

To this night she could hear that wolfish growl, counterpoint to the blade skewering her heart with one flat thrust. She'd lived just long enough to fling herself out a window and fall....

To revive minutes later, bowl still clutched in her talons, in the middle of a running band of samurai in Choushuu colors. She'd laughed, then; actually _laughed_, seeing the opportunity to indulge her hate for humans and further fan the flames of hate these humans had for each other. She'd slay them all, here, where their deaths would be blamed on the Shinsengumi she had left so bloodily dead. Claws spread to slash, she leapt into the fray. One dead, two-

And a blur of red and muted blue-gray streaked past her, one swift sting in her throat. Death had been quick. Almost painless.

For the second time that night, she'd revived - in the river, her body a bloody mess, kappa bowl nowhere to be found. Her killer might have struck one clean blow, but his compatriots had taken some rather extreme measures against demonkind, and if she ever caught up with the one who'd poured salt into her opened bowels....

The week had gone downhill from there.

__

It's over. It's done. Nearly thirty years have passed; any who faced you then are bent with age, or dead and dust. Deal with now.

Dragonfly slipped the seal into his sleeve. "I must speak with Li Tang."

__

No! "I kept my bargain with you, old man!" Demona's eyes glowed crimson, talons held by her sides only through pure will.

"The terms of our bargain were that the eggs would be unsealed when Himura was dead. Think!" the curse-caster said swiftly at her snarl. "While they are sealed, they are safe from harm. That chained fool could fall on them, and his bones would break instead! Unseal your young now...."

And she'd have over thirty helpless hatchlings to ward from hostile foes. Powers, but she _hated_ it when humans were right! "How can this be?" Demona demanded, red gaze flicking to the chained martial artist. "How can he be under Himura's curse? You shaped it to take the human and his wife." Better to take both at once; otherwise the love of one might drive the other to cling to life far longer.

"Yes. A human." Dragonfly scowled. "You," he barked in rough Japanese. "Name?"

"Sagara Sanosuke, you dried-up horse's ass." Some of the grief had faded off the man's faced, chased out by grim determination. "What the hell did Kenshin ever do to you? If you were Japanese, I might get it - Kenshin's got loads of people waiting to spit on his grave, the cowards - but Chinese?"

__

So this Himura has enemies in Japan. Enemies beyond Dragonfly's circle? Demona frowned, struck by a sense of pieces that didn't quite fit.

"Know Himura how?" Dragonfly pressed on.

Sanosuke rolled his eyes. "Tell that spooky idiot it's none of his damn business how I know Kenshin. I doubt either of you would understand the word 'friend' if I handed you a dictionary - yeek!"

"Rrruff!" Milk teeth worried at Sagara's white pants cuff, tail twitching with enthusiasm as the hatchling tried to tear apart tough cotton. Clawed forepaws kneaded at a chained leg.

"Ow, ow, ow - cut that out, you little - yow!" Sano twitched enough to tumble the hatchling free, subsided at Demona's glare. "Kami, what a night."

__

And it's almost over, Demona realized, feeling dawn press on her bones. "Take him elsewhere," she ordered in growled Chinese.

"He took down a dozen of our men. I can't detach that many more from official duties to cart him off elsewhere," Dragonfly said dryly. "And I do need him here to determine what went wrong with the curse. You'll be guarded through the day."

__

You cowardly-

Dawn caught her mid-curse.

----------

__

Chinese arrogance. One of these days, it's going to cost them.

Red sparks still floating through his vision, Sanosuke sagged against his chains, feigning unconsciousness. He kept narrowed eyes open just enough to study the stony form of his enemy and her little... whatever kind of tiger-dragon-cub that thing was. Maybe he didn't speak good Chinese, but he understood it well enough to get from China to here in once piece.

__

Kenshin's alive. Kenshin's alive.

__

Maybe.

Alive and still in danger, if he'd heard that Demona and her feng shui friend right. _They death-cursed him. And Jou-chan. Because of Tokyo's Circle of Eternity? Or something else? Hell, with Kenshin's luck, it probably is Tokyo. Damn swordsman always seems to have something bite him in the ass a decade or two after it happens-_

Silk rustled.

His throat was still too hurt to take a deep breath, the rest of him felt like he'd been pulled through a waterwheel backwards, and the chains stole the leverage he'd need to pull a futae no kiwami._ Okay, time to play dead._

"And now, Sagara Sanosuke... you will tell me what I want to know."

Forget playing dead. "Go to hell."

"Oh, all of us will." The ancient fingers that gripped his throat were chill and full of sparks. "But before that time comes... I can show you a preview."

Morning light cringed from the screams.

------------

kaasan - mother.

kunoichi - female ninja.

miko - shrine maiden.

-sama - honorific, "lord".

koishii - beloved.

tanuki - raccoon dog.

Aku. Soku. Zan. - "Evil. Swift. Slay." Motto of the Shinsengumi.

ne? - isn't that right?

kenjutsu - art of swordsmanship.

bokken - lead-weighted wooden sword.


	3. Chapter 3

----------  
A/N: Okay. Based on past reviews, I feel I have to put this in...

1) The author admits to being a shameless Battousai fan.

2) On vows: see previous fics "Veritas" and "Spin Cycle".

3) This is supposed to be an _AU fix_ to "Reflections".

4) This fic _is_ rated R, and includes Demona... who has no qualms about killing, and has, literally, tried to wipe out every human on the face of the planet. Several times. Think of her as the Gargoyles equivalent of Shishio Makoto. Only immortal.

5) Based on all of the above, if you're _still_ not expecting violence....

----------

"Haaahhh...."

Dimly Kenshin felt Kaoru grab his arm, holding him upright when his knees threatened to buckle in the dawn. Battousai held his mind and blood, urging his hand toward his katana's hilt, snarling of _threat_ and _enemy_ and _kill_....

__

But no one's here. I know _no one's here!_

"Get him out of sight!" Saitou's growl, faded by the fiery drum of blood in his veins. The Shinsengumi's strong hands closed on his shoulders, half-dragging them all behind the cloth-loaded wagon. They didn't stop until paper-wrapped bolts blocked the view of the cloth trader; Benkai barely hesitated, determinedly chatting the Korean up while he and Aoshi helped repair the wagon's loose wheel. Dabbing cream on the donkey's nagging harness sore, Megumi cast them a wide-eyed glance, then threw a pointed look at Misao. The ninja tossed dark steel, distracting the trader's son with jacks that doubled as caltrops in the night. "Enomouto's convinced the locals we're simple travelers so far, but if they see _this_-"

Pain. Like black ice, creeping through his skin, quenching Battousai's fire as it hissed inward.

"Kami-sama, _no_." Kaoru's voice trembled. "Not again!"

__

Kaoru. Kaoru is in danger.

I don't think_ so!_

Darkness shattered.

Kenshin panted on Kaoru's shoulder, shaky as if he'd broken a dozen Shin no Ippous one after the other. _Hurts... tired...._

Cotton rustled. A slap. "Hands off, Saitou!"

"Kamiya. The damn fool didn't taste blood last night. Too much of the rurouni in him still, won't kill when he has a chance not to. He won't throw off another attack without help." The wolf snorted. "And I doubt he'll take mine."

"...Oh."

Kaoru's hair fell over his face like midnight rain. Kenshin breathed in jasmine, cotton touched with sweat and steel, the warmth that was just Kaoru. _Safe. I'm safe. She's safe. And she smells so good._

He nuzzled tender skin. Moved down her throat, following that tantalizing scent to the dip of her shoulder.

__

Saitou's watching.

But Kaoru's hand brushed his cheek like falling cherry petals, love burning bright in her ki.

__

Saitou can go to hell.

Warm. Red. Coppery. And oh so familiar.

__

Better....

Kenshin blinked, suddenly aware of Saitou's careful gaze elsewhere, Megumi's hurried approach. "Aoshi said the curse hit again," the doctor said in a rush. "Is Kenshin - oh."

__

Why does the earth never open up and swallow you when you wish it? "I've hurt you," he said softly, pulling back from Kaoru's shoulder.

"No!" Blue eyes met his, hesitated. "Not really," Kaoru amended. "Are you all right?"

"No, he isn't," Megumi said flatly, dabbing with a damp cloth at patches of peeling skin on his throat and hands. "How much more of this can he take?"

----------

"Just keep smiling," Benkai advised Misao as they got Yan's cloth-laden wagon back onto the road. Between her antics and Aoshi's cool expression, Yan hadn't noticed the swift flurry of action around Himura. He hoped.

__

Though how anybody could not _notice that - that_ darkness....

Benkai headed back toward the knot of people walking behind the wagon, absently tugging at the neck of his dark brown kimono. Granted, the borrowed clothes had gone a long way toward convincing those they met that this group was nothing more than a bunch of innocent civilians trying to avoid all three countries' militaries, but it felt weird being in traditional Japanese garb. Almost as weird as being out of uniform.

__

They say the ronin of old drifted, carried along by the waves of time. Benkai shook his head, all too aware of the weight of the bokken slung over his shoulder. _I feel like I got hit by a tsunami._ "What did you leave behind?"

"What?" Amber blinked at him, still dull with a trace of fever.

__

Stay calm, Benkai told himself, shivering inside. Even ill, golden eyes were cool and calculating as a dragon's, promising quick death to any threat. _Just try to stay calm. Don't run-_

__

I'm not running?

He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to.

And yet... part of him just _wouldn't._

__

Figure it out later. "I've only heard about death-curses in legends, but..." Benkai shrugged. "Usually, if the spell hits hard all of a sudden, the witch just got hold of something important. Something connected to you."

"I didn't have that much to leave when Sano found me," Battousai started.

"Sanosuke." Kaoru paled.

"Trust the rooster-head to find trouble." Saitou's lip curled.

"He's a friend?" Benkai asked, uncertain.

"Hai," Himura nodded. "A good friend."

"Not to mention a hot-headed, impulsive, superstitious idiot who sees ghosts and think trains run by kitsune tricks," Megumi added, smacking a fist into her palm.

__

Oh boy. "Someone who might have gone looking for a feng shui master for revenge?"

Kaoru gave him a fierce glare. "You know something."

__

Wish I didn't. "Is he about six foot with wild black hair, mid-thirties, wears red wrist wraps, speaks bad Korean and worse Chinese?"

Saitou gave him a level look. "We're not the first to come through here asking questions."

"No." Benkai didn't shake his head, unwilling to look away from Himura's eyes. Like a trapped eagle's, that golden gaze tore at something in his heart. _This is wrong. This is so wrong. If someone wanted to kill him, they should come face to face...._

__

Um, hello? the part of him that hadn't stopped shivering spoke up. _Hitokiri? A face to face fight with him would be suicide!_

Maybe so. But this curse... it was _wrong_. Like slipping mercury into a well. Like snaring a dragon in an enchanted net, to beat it to death with clubs.

Something pink blurred in front of his glasses.

Benkai started back, one hand reaching for the gun that wasn't there. _What?_

"Oh, he _is_ awake." Still wiggling her fingers, Megumi gave him a foxy smile. "And here I thought I was going to get to practice my acupuncture. I can never seem to get the needle depth _quite_ right...."

"Run," Kaoru advised wryly.

__

Running is good, Benkai thought, bolting ahead to fall in beside the wagon. _Oh gods, they're all crazy._

"So he's caught you, too."

__

Heart. Beat. Good, Benkai told himself, trying not to shake from the rush of adrenaline that had spiked through him at Aoshi's words. "Would it kill you to make some noise when you walk?" he hissed.

Green eyes held a bare flicker of humor. "Yes."

"Gaah...."

"Fighting might keep you free a little longer. You have a swordsman's will-" Aoshi's lips parted, tasting the air. "Ah. Too late, then."

"Too late for what?" Benkai caught Yan's speculative glance from the wagon, lowered his voice. "Fighting what?"

"You feel for him." Aoshi's mouth bent slightly. "The most feared of all... and you would cast yourself between him and a drawn blade."

"What?" _That's crazy! And I'm not. Crazy. Maybe I'm AWOL, maybe I'm sort of kidnapped, but I am_ not _crazy. Get between a hitokiri and his enemy? Why on earth would I do something like-_

Unbidden, the blaze of golden eyes filled his mind.

__

I don't....

Trapped. In agony.

__

I can't....

Fearless to the end.

__

I want....

No. No, it was impossible. He was a farmer's son, not a samurai. The Shogunate was dead and dust; there _were_ no samurai anymore. Much less wandering ronin, cut free by chance or fortune, seeking for an honorable lord to serve.

The bokken seemed to burn on his shoulder. Proper, solid wood, shaped to have the heft and swing of a true sword. In an expert's hands, as deadly as steel.

Benkai gulped in air, trying to shake the feeling that he was suddenly drowning.

__

In basic training, they take away your clothes, your family, your very identity as a civilian, a cool, clear part of his mind stated. _They show you another life, and try to make you want it, heart and soul._

Yet not all the months he'd spent under drill sergeants' snarling eyes had snared him as effectively as one touch of a sword-callused hand, one gentle look from eyes shifting from violet to burning, inhuman amber....

__

Run!

Iron fingers bit into the nerves of his shoulder. Blackness crashed down.

"I think," Aoshi's voice chased him into the dark, "That it's time you stopped thinking, _shugyosha_ Benkai."

----------

__

Sadistic son of a bitch. Squirming the last inch to the dish of water Dragonfly had left on the floor, Sanosuke dipped his head to the side and sucked up mouthfuls of water. Chain rattled and clanked, biting his wrists and ankles as it settled around him. One thing you could always count on with torture, it made you thirsty as the Mongolian desert.

__

Could be worse. Sanosuke took a break to breathe, wondering when his muscles were going to stop twitching from those nasty purple sparks. Dragonfly had left hours before; now it was nearly sunset and he still couldn't stop shaking. _At least the dried-up spook wants his people to do it, instead of letting that creep Tang at you._

And that was a stroke of luck, even if he did feel like someone had spun his muscles out of water. Sanosuke had seen the look in Tang's eyes before. That guy _liked_ pain.

__

Two hours with him, and we'd both be dead.

Say what you wanted to about the damn sorcerer, at least Dragonfly had the smarts to see that. The feng shui master had politely declined Tang's offers of assistance, humbly declaring that the younger members of his circle needed an opportunity to practice their pain-casting spells.

__

Said it like he was inviting them to practice kata. Sanosuke shivered. _Like they were the worst of the old-time samurai, committing "practice murders" on passersby. Man, I hate the government as much as anybody - but if these are the people trying to take over Korea, maybe the imperialists have a good idea taking it first...._

Focus, Sano. What the hell does this guy want?

And how can you keep him from getting it?

Sano bent back to the water, letting the cool trickle past his lips distract him from the trembling burn of his body. Dragonfly's questions had ranged from the ordinary to the downright bizarre. Did Kenshin eat salt? Was he always near water? Had he ever been hit with beans during Setsubun?

__

Who hasn't? Sano shook his head, trying to sort what he'd learned into some kind of sense. _It's like he thinks Kenshin's some kind of youkai...._

Hitokiri Battousai. The demon of the Revolution. The wraith who slipped through the Shinsengumi's traps like smoke, leaving death in his wake.

__

Naah. That can't be it. The only name they've used is Himura. If they knew he was Battousai, somebody _would have said something by now._ Taking a last sip, Sanosuke drew slow, deep breaths. _Focus. One, two-_

Open-handed, his right hand slapped the iron chain twice.

__

Sanju no kiwami!

Iron shattered.

Gritting his teeth, Sanosuke shook off the outermost loop of chain. Curled fingers into fists, and wobbled to his feet. _Okay. Now to get out of this statue gallery-_

Crack. Crackle. Crunch.

Cracks spread over the gargoyle demon's statue. Stone flaked, split away as the frozen figure curled into wide-winged life. A lynx-like shriek cut the air.

"Oh, that's just not _fair_," Sanosuke managed.

A slate-blue fist slammed him into the wall.

__

Round two, the part of him that just loved a fight crowed. _Let's get her!_

Yeah, right, the more sane half of him groaned. _Ah, hell...._

She was stronger, but hampered by the close confines that didn't let her use her wings for height and speed. He was in worse shape... but she was between him and Kenshin's life.

The fight was quick, grim, and brutal.

Bleeding, Sanosuke stood over the semiconscious gargoyle, mustering the breath and strength for one last punch. _Can't... let her walk away. Sorry, Kenshin; know you wouldn't want me to do this, but...._

Teeth sank into his calf. "K'so!"

Leaping free, the cat-sized little gargoyle hissed at him. Tiger-striped fur stood on end, and its eyes glowed a faint white.

__

Like a kitten... trying to warn the Bad Thing away from Mommy. Sanosuke raised a fist. _Sorry, kitten._

__

"Ma chroidh...." Demona's hand stroked bristled fur. "I won't... let you hurt her!"

__

That's a kid? Sanosuke could see it in the sudden fury in Demona's gaze, the naked rage of someone willing to risk everything - _everything_ - to bring the enemy down. "I wouldn't - she's yours? Kami, I _couldn't_-"

Silk rustled behind him, and purple sparks blacked out the world.

__

Sometimes, life really sucks....

The floor hit harder than Demona's punch.

----------

"I see we need steel." Dragonfly fingered remnants of chain, feeling the prickle in his fingernails as bits of focussed ki snapped against his magic. "Impressive."

"But you're not surprised." Demona's eyes glowed as she stood over her fallen foe. "We should kill him now."

"Live bait works better," Dragonfly shrugged, pretending nonchalance. _Especially should what I fear be true._

"Bait? For the man supposed to be dying of your curse?" The ruby glow narrowed. "What do you know, old man?"

__

Less than I would like. "I know that Li is sending us more men, so we may take Himura when he arrives."

"I thought he couldn't spare more men," Demona growled.

"As did I." _Himura. What is Kenshin Himura, to frighten our government's shadowy arm so?_ "Assist me."

He called in White Pine, Ghost Face, and their three apprentices, trusting gargoyle claws to hold the unconscious Sagara down as the five lesser witches took position to match the five elements, passing power from hand to hand to work iron into shining, magic-laced steel.

__

Though I doubt even that will hold him without a watchful guard, Dragonfly thought darkly, watching with a cynical eye as Demona fastened the new chains on their bait. _Such power, for a human not trained in magic. Power that bound him to Himura; that let him fight the curse along with Himura, preserving both their lives._

If he _has this much power...._

"I've been asking the wrong soul questions," Dragonfly said softly.

"Ah?" Wizened and gray of hair in a way that belied her forty-one years, White Pine gave him a glance that mixed curiosity and smoldering rage. He saw it, but did not fear it. The mistress of dark energies would be loyal to death and beyond. She'd had kin among those lost in Tokyo, and still hungered to wreak the same torment on Japan that British opium had wreaked on China.

"Sagara has power of his own," Dragonfly explained. "Even if he's seen Himura do something inhuman, Sagara might not see it as strange. We could question him for days and learn nothing."

"And if he has, he may know enough of his own _chi_ to know what must be hidden." White Pine smiled cruelly. "If so... we should assuredly question him further."

"Later," Dragonfly waved it off. Fun would have to wait. "We must have answers now." He bowed. "And with your aid, Lady Demona, I believe we may obtain them."

Demona took the offered set of bone bits and sticks with a dark scowl. Looked over his matching set, and the arrangement of signs and incense, and took red chalk from him to finish the circle about them all when his own splinted arm would not serve. "You truly believe this Himura's not human."

"I _believe_ nothing," Dragonfly said coldly. "I _know_ that Li fears him, and that he was able to stop feng shui masters we knew to be strong in their magic, when no ordinary human could have defeated their defenses. Outside of that-" He shrugged. "Himura appeared human in daylight. But we all know magic too well to assume his true form from that, eh?"

"And I am gargoyle, and you are human," Demona inclined her head as she prepared to cast. "Two of the Three Races. If he is of the Third Race... we will know."

"Spirits are more than one race," White Pine said sharply.

Fangs gleamed, cold as the bones rattling over the floor. "You think that of humans, too."

----------

__

Hot. Tired. Aching.

Feeling the jolt of wagon wheels stopping through his bones, Kenshin opened bleary eyes to a chocolate glow in the twilight. Another blink focussed chocolate into a stretch of patterned brown silk, a scattering of unruly black hair just starting to break loose of its short haircut, and a subtle glow of an untrained swordsman's ki. _Benkai?_

Benkai. The ear-piece of the translator's glasses dug into his collarbone as the sleeping man's head rested against his shoulder. Both of them were tucked up against paper bolts, the unmistakable scent of indigo-dyed silk tickling Kenshin's nose. He barely noticed. How could someone he barely knew stay so close, and still feel safe?

__

"Mizu?"

Water, Kenshin realized after a second trying to decipher Yan's accent. The slosh in the canteen Kaoru handed up helped. "Yes, thank you." He bowed, still sitting, careful to keep his bangs hiding his eyes. "Kaoru...."

"I think we're almost there, wherever 'there' is. At least, as far as Yan's willing to take us. We really need Benkai awake." She shot him a worried look. "But Aoshi said we shouldn't wake him up. That only you should."

"Why?" Kenshin asked warily.

"That's what I asked him!" Kaoru flung up her hands. "He just smiled."

Smiled. The chill, calm, unflappable leader of the Aoiya onmitsu - had smiled.

__

He's up to something.

He's ninja. They're always _up to something._

Setting aside foreboding, Kenshin tapped the translator on the nose. "Enomouto. Benkai-san. We've need of you."

"Ah - what-" The younger man sat up as if he'd been shocked, hand automatically going to his glasses. "Where - it's night? Did I....?"

"You needed the rest. This night will likely be... busy." Kenshin cleared the side of the wagon in one swift move, senses ranging out to check the rest of his allies. His head throbbed dully, though the rest had helped. Yet still he could sense the darkness eating at his ki, spreading out to lick black flames at the others.

__

Saitou's right, damn him. You can't take much more of this. And neither can they.

Oh, they were fighting it. Throwing off shreds of malice with every breath, burning bright as stars. Yet there was always more pouring in, an endless flood of hate and rage, fetid as a swamp in high summer.

__

And to think I believed Battousai was a demon's rage, Kenshin thought wearily, moving off to the side of the road with the rest of his group under a traveler's shade tree, half-listening to Benkai's tired but cheerful Korean farewell as Yan and his son headed off toward their customer's shop and bed. His hands shook a little as he accepted the bento box of cold lunch Kaoru handed over. From the clean vinegar tang as he opened the lid, she hadn't cooked. _At least that fury is... clean. Clear. Focussed on removing the foe in one swift and merciful strike._

He could no longer deny that clean burn of rage. Battousai was all that was saving him. And them. The dark fire in his veins seared the malice even as it cast it away, rendering it fractured enough for other kis to fight. He could all but hear the wolfish growl as Saitou's soul fought back.

__

Aa, I can _hear it_, Kenshin realized, working his way through seaweed-wrapped fish and rice. _So beautiful._ Kaoru's ki was a ring of steel against darkness; Misao's and Aoshi's, the subtle slide of silk through a snare. Megumi was the taunting yip of a fox just out of hounds' reach, and Benkai-

Mouthful of rice and pickled vegetables, Kenshin choked. _No._

"Kenshin?" Nibbling on a rice-ball dotted with raisins, Kaoru touched his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

__

No. But the sound, the feel were unmistakable.

Grimly finishing his meal, Kenshin put his chopsticks away. Touched Benkai's shoulder. In his mind he could hear the clack and clatter of a student's bokken, gamely trying to beat back a horde of opponents. "How long?"

"What?" But the feverish glitter of brown eyes belied Benkai's confusion.

"How long has he been ill?" Kenshin growled. "What have you done, Aoshi?"

"Nothing," the okashira declared. "You chose to take him under your guardianship, Battousai. _He_ chose to accept it. And as legend tells us, a dragon's protection has... consequences."

"I'm fine," Benkai protested. But the shift of his eyes said he knew he lied.

__

You're dying. You're dying just like we are. Kenshin's fist clenched by his side. _And you did_ nothing _to deserve it._

Enough.

The night slid into fiery clarity.

"Kenshin." Kaoru took a half-step back.

"I think not." Saitou's smile was all fangs. "So, Battousai... how long has it been since you've hunted men?"

"Almost thirty years." Battousai tasted the night air, listened to the breeze, felt for that icy darkness of malice like a trail of smoke in the wind. "Tonight, it ends."

----------

Head buried in his chained arms, Sanosuke risked opening one eye a crack to peer at the stunned feng shui masters. Smoke still swirled through the air, following clattering fragments that smelled of charred mutton. _Somehow, I don't think those bones were supposed to explode._

The sorcerers had been casting and chanting along with that gargoyle who refused to stay dead, Chinese sliding out of the dialect Sano understood into something archaic that wailed with savage Mongolian fury. Coins, bones, and sticks had glowed and fallen into one pattern after another, becoming more and more complex as the enchanters neared their goal. Purple malice had glowed around them, thickened-

And a spark of gold-laced green had blazed from the center kanji, blasting air and flesh like a _Dou Ryuu Sen_.

"Kenshin," Sano said under his breath, listening to Dragonfly babble about fire, and something-_lung_.

__

Lung. Wait a second... doesn't that mean dragon? Old memories came to mind, some of the names Kenshin had gathered over years of legends, and Sanosuke couldn't help but grin. _Heh. Aw, poor babies. Did what you were up to just bite you?_

Sanosuke felt warm claws prick against his back, and glanced over his shoulder at the little gargoyle beast curled in a terrified, frizz-furred arch behind the most solid protection in the room. "Easy, kitten. He's not going to hurt you. Not through me, he's not - gurk!"

__

Oh man, this is getting old.

Crimson eyes glared down into his, claws embedded in what was left of his collar. "What is he?" Demona snarled.

Sano glared past her. "Why don't you ask him?"

Demona whirled, snarling at the tall, uniformed man who now stepped through the smoke. "You! You said you set us on a _human._"

Gun holstered at his side, at least four armed flunkies holding position behind him, Li Tang smirked. "And if I'd told you he was rumored to be a demon, would you have worked against your own kind?"

"He is... _not_ her kind." Creaking to his feet, Dragonfly glared at the Chinese intelligence officer. "He is not human. He is not a guardian of temples. He is fire and magic and death, and he is coming _here!_"

"Yes, he is," Tang's smile twisted with dark glee. "Amazing he's managed to slip our patrols so far... but our agent in the village just sent word that a redheaded Japanese was sighted along the road." Tang shook his head, _tsk_ing. "For one said to be the most deadly of assassins, you'd think he'd have learned to dye that hair."

"Assassin?" Demona growled, still between Tang's soldiers and the recovering feng shui masters.

"_Hitokiri_, as the Japanese put it," Tang said silkily. "An assassin who carved away the Shogunate and gave Meiji back his empire. A hero whose hands are stained in the blood of thousands... and whose loss will break the will of Meiji's army like a reed! _The_ hitokiri, Battousai!" He laughed once, a sharp bark. "Or didn't you know who your _friend_ truly was, Sagara?"

"Himura Kenshin," Sanosuke said levelly, watching Demona out of the corner of his eye as she paled. _She knows-? The hell with not speaking Chinese!_ "The dragon of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu. And the guy who's going to kick you, them, and all the goons you got posted around this place's asses all the way back to Tibet." He rolled his eyes at the soldiers. "Clue, guys. If you start running now, you _might_ live a few hours longer."

"Run?" One of the burlier soldiers snorted. "Who do you think you're speaking to, scum of Japan?"

"Oh, I'm talking to a dead man," Sanosuke said levelly. "You just don't know it yet." He leaned back as much as the chains would allow. "I gotta admit, Tang, you've got guts. No brains, but guts. You're still standing here. After you got the most terrible man in the world... _pissed_ at you."

"Brave words." Tang smirked, heading back outside. "But for all his terrible reputation, the famed hitokiri's an old, sick man. A used-up swordsman, who's vowed never to kill again. Only his legend makes him a danger."

"You keep thinking that!" Sanosuke called as a parting shot. Mustered his strength, and gave the sorcerers the nastiest grin he could manage as Dragonfly gathered up his fellow curse-casters and hurried out. Demona was last to leave, casting one more ferocious scowl his way as Tang's soldiers took up guard by the door.

__

Demona knows about Battousai. Sanosuke turned that thought over in his head, ignoring his new guards for right now. _She knows, and he scares her to death._

Now, how can I use that?

----------

__

Battousai. Demona clenched her fists, denying memories of bloodstained midnights. _It can't be. He was human - I_ thought _he was human...._

Yet Dragonfly's spell wouldn't lie to her.

"Who is this man?" Dragonfly pounced, the moment they were out of Sagara's earshot.

"Hitokiri Battousai," Demona gritted out. "The demon of Kyoto. Red hair, a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. Small and slight as a human girl, with a sword that moves too fast for the eye to see...."

And memory swept forward, carrying fear in its wake.

A few nights after pulling herself out of the river, Demona had perched on an alley wall, licking human blood from her talons as she watched crowds thin in Kyoto's night. The scent of cooking rice and spices mingled with the wet reek of the river and the sweet, burnt-leaf stench of some Shinsengumi's cigarette. A few snagged servants, a slashed throat or two - it'd been easy enough to determine the kappa bowl had been moved along with its owner.

Below her, the outermost perimeter guard coughed out the last red drops of his life.

__

"There he is!"

"Don't let him get away!"

Hmph. The humans were at it again. Two alleys away, it sounded like. Demona shrugged her wings off her shoulders, flexing violet skin to ready herself for the low glide to the roof, listening all the while. Running feet, the slice of steel through flesh... amusing, how fast they were to kill each other when they couldn't find gargoyles to torment.

But human murder wasn't important. What mattered was the bowl.

So she'd died. Twice. She'd died before. And in worse ways, when the Inquisition had once had its will. She wasn't about to give up on revenge that easily-

__

"He's cornered!"

"Hah! We've got you now, you murdering Choushuu bastard!"

Entertaining as it would have been to watch the slaughter behind her, she ignored the noise. No human could scale a ten-foot wall in the heartbeat it took her to bounce on talons, and leap-

As she leaned into the wind, there was an odd clarity of sound behind her; as if a rustle of silk that had been muffled by the alley wall had suddenly leapt high in clear air. _What-?_

Impact.

But there weren't any gargoyles in Kyoto, her dazed mind protested as a slim body struck her from behind, slamming them both forward and down through thick air. There weren't any gargoyles; how could she possibly have been hit from _above?_

"Oro?"

Snarling, Demona slashed over her shoulder-

To meet empty air.

Reflex snapped her wings closed and out of harm's way, but the street still blasted breath from her lungs. Vision blurred, red hair seeming to both wisp into her eyes and blur to a stop ten feet away over a gleam of steel....

Red hair tied back in a ronin's high ponytail, trailing over a blue Choushuu uniform, casting a cold amber gaze into shadows.

__

"I killed you."

Snarling, she charged.

He _blurred_.

Nine centuries roaming the nights had honed her combat skills. Demona sidestepped the slashing sword, doubled back, whipped out her tail in a move that had left untold hundreds on the ground, helpless and ready for slaughter.

And missed.

__

Wait - we're not alone-

Shinsengumi uniforms stepped out of the shadows, glistening with steel. A too-familiar smirk gleamed in the shadows, scented with the faintest touch of cigarette smoke. "So our trap caught two demons."

The redhead sheathed his sword, dropping into a stance that shivered threat down Demona's nerves. "Go back the way you came, or die."

"Not this night, Battousai!"

And the night was filled with steel.

Demona cursed as she killed, trying to tear her way free of this human entanglement. Let the humans slaughter each other, all she wanted was the bowl to kill them all-

Only Battousai wasn't letting her.

__

He's predicting my moves!

Every step she made, he was a step ahead; every leap was matched, every feint laid clear to Shinsengumi eyes by his countering shifts in stance. The assassin was _using_ her, sure as any lord used hawk and hounds, to drive his prey the way he wished them to go-

A whisper of silk, and she crouched alone amid blood and bodies.

Or... not _quite_ alone.

Wolfish eyes gleamed with something darker than hate, and more implacable than fury. _"You made me lose him."_

For the second time in a week, she woke in the river.

"I thought he was human," Demona said now, not bothering to hide her shiver. "After all, I'd seen-"

__

MacBeth.

"-Another human move with the strength and agility of a gargoyle," Demona said dispassionately. "Yet, now that I think on it... that human had been changed by magic as well." The Weird Sisters' curse had traded her age for MacBeth's youth, but he'd gotten some of her kind's strengths in the bargain. He might not be able to tear through stone with his bare hands, but a punch from him could lay out an ox.

Dragonfly let out a sigh of relief. "Then we have a chance."

"A chance?" A ruby glare narrowed.

The feng shui master smirked. "How are you at warding off demons?"

Slowly, Demona smiled.

----------

__

One foot in front of the other, Benkai thought hazily. He wasn't sure how long they'd been walking, or even where. The night had fogged with fever and pain; only Kaoru's hand clamped on his arm kept him going through the dark. _Just one foot in front of the other...._

A cool cloth brushed his brow. "He should stay back with us," Megumi said grimly.

"No." Battousai's voice was still cool, but it had a ragged edge that chilled Benkai more than amber eyes. "The farther away he is, the less I can protect him. Or you."

"We don't need protecting!" Misao protested.

"If it was swords, I'd agree with you." Benkai heard more than saw Kaoru's shudder. "But can't you feel it? Like leaning against a drawn blade...."

"Yes." Aoshi's tone was colorless. "We have to strike. As one."

Saitou growled low. "I know you can sense those guards, Shinomori. "

"We have no choice." The okashira's voice was beyond calm, into flat agony. "The moon is setting, and its darkness adds to the curse's power. Either the caster dies... or we do."

"So it's speed, then." Saitou was a blur in front of fevered eyes. "Enomouto. Forget fighting. Just keep up."

"I'll - try," Benkai whispered. "But... I don't know if I can...."

"You can." Kenshin's hand touched his arm, like a lick of sparks. "I brought you into this. I _will_ bring you out safe."

Dry-mouthed, Benkai nodded. Dimly he registered the three men group together, discussing and discarding tactics with a wave of hand or curl of lips-

And they were running blind through the night, charging near-soundless into an empty clearing.

__

Or - not empty, Benkai realized, as dark figures seemed to appear out of nowhere and a spear lanced toward his heart. He dug sandals in and jerked aside, dodging through sheer luck. _What- where - gods, what do I_ do? Bokken or no bokken, this man knew what he was doing with that spear. _I don't know how to predict him, I can barely_ see _him. I'm going to die..._

He felt amber eyes touch him like fire-

And all of Tomi's lessons seemed to snap into place.

__

Forward thrust!

Benkai sidestepped, sliding under the spear, bringing his bokken across and up in one swift blow to the soldier's neck. His opponent dropped like a stone.

__

How...?

But there was no time to think; only to drift in that moving stillness the fever couldn't touch, striking and ducking and fighting to just breathe-

__

Blood.

Feint.

Flash of steel as a kunai lands in a soldier's eye.

Impact.

Head, head, shoulder - he's down!

There's less of them-

We're winning-

An all-too-familiar shriek split the air; Benkai ducked instinctively. _A gargoyle?_

But it was Battousai she'd targeted; he slipped aside like a ghost, leaving her talons to slash into hard ground-

And the gargoyle laughed.

Her claw-gash joined faint lines on the sandy earth, closing a circle that burned violet flames about them both. Battousai glanced, snarled, bolted-

Rebounded off spell-laced air as if he'd hit a steel wall.

And the fire, that welcome, changing fire that had carried Benkai like a crimson wave... vanished.

----------

__

Hot. So hot. Steel was heavier than it should be, weighing down Sano's wrists when he tried to wipe his brow. Determined to ignore the way the room wanted to spin around him, Sanosuke grinned tiredly at his guards. "So... any of you guys know how to play go?"

Silence.

"Sheesh, tough crowd...."

Wait a second. These guys were a little _too_ quiet.

Matter of fact, it looked like they weren't even breathing.

The gargoyle cub leaped onto his shoulders, curling behind his neck, frizzed out to three times her size. "Hiss!"

__

What the-

And Sanosuke felt every last hair on his neck stand straight up, as three near-identical women in pale blue Chinese cheongsams appeared out of the shadows.

"The winds of fate have shifted about our tool, sisters," the blonde observed.

"Why did we not see this before?" the black-haired one inquired.

"She crossed a dragon's path," the white-haired sister said coolly. "They are... unpredictable."

"Her plan may yet succeed," Blonde noted.

Black's eyes narrowed. "Or it might fail."

"And both paths would tear her from our grasp," White stated. "Win, and she will bury her hate in her clan, and be useless to us. Fail... and she may truly die."

"That shall not be."

"Then we must interfere." Three sets of pupil-less eyes fixed on the feverish man in chains.

"Oh no," Sanosuke said bluntly. _Please, let me just be sick. Hallucinating._ Please. _Anything but what I think these women really are._ "No way, no how. I know what you are."

"He sees us," Blonde said, mildly amused.

"And he knows our nature," White added.

"As much as humans ever do." Black's lips curled.

"I know enough." Sanosuke felt the kitten quivering against him. _Good idea. Now, who can_ I _quiver behind?_ "You're youkai on human grounds. Nobody invited you here. Nobody bound you here. You can't touch me unless I ask you to." He swallowed dryly. "And I won't."

"So certain."

"So foolish."

"As mortals always are."

"Your friends are in mortal peril as we speak."

"And you are dying with them."

"Demona has trapped your dragon in a ward that blocks his magic. He is _human_."

"And she is gargoyle."

"And she will be his death."

"I don't believe you," Sano whispered.

"See for yourself." Blonde stroked the air, colors shimmering into shapes of night and blood.

----------

__

So dark!

Kenshin felt the tail slap against his ankle even as he tried to dodge; he fell, turned it into a roll, winced as talons scraped his ribs.

__

I can't feel _her...._

He fought not to shiver. Without the press of other, angry kis against his, he could recall too easily what he'd just done.

__

I had no choice. The Chinese spearmen, those few with swords; Kaoru and Megumi can defend themselves, and Benkai. Even the ninja who remain - Misao and Aoshi can defeat them.

But those were gunmen. They had to be stopped.

I had no choice.

It'd been so easy to take them with Saitou by his side. So easy to set loose the dragon, dancing around the Shinsengumi's earthbound wolf. So frighteningly easy, to look in the eyes of those who believed guns were superior to any sword... and cut them down like autumn grass.

__

You don't know. You can't know. You who believe China is the center of the world; how can you know?

Hiten Mitsurugi had been forged during the time of the Warring States. The era guns had first touched Japan, before Toyotomi's great sword-hunt and Tokugawa edicts had destroyed them all. Hiten masters had _known_ what it was to face firearms. And they'd never, never let their students forget.

He could still taste the blood in the air.

But now the kis about him had vanished like stars behind clouds. He felt... _blind_. Everything was too dim, too quiet, too slow. Even the howl that was Battousai fighting for life was thin and faded, as if the fire of the hitokiri had been smothered under a woven-iron blanket.

__

Out!

Again, empty air repelled him.

"Don't bother." The red-haired demon he'd slain decades ago in Kyoto sneered at him, crouched and waiting. "Those wards are human magic."

Magic. He couldn't deny it. Not with the evidence before his own eyes.

__

I killed you....

Once swiftly, in passing, barely even registering her as monstrous; just another killer of Ishin Shishi to be dealt with. Once by omission, using one who would kill him as a living blind to slay his true enemies, then leaving her to Saitou's wrath. And yet again the night after, working in eerie harmony with Saitou for one brief instant when the howling demon had swept down on their duel.

__

No one kills him but me!

For one heart-stopping instant, Battousai had withdrawn his blade from the Shinsengumi's range, _trusting_ the Captain of the Third Squad would not strike....

And steel had punched into flesh.

Disbelieving, the demoness had slid into death once more.

He'd looked at Saitou. Saitou had looked at him. Ishin Shishi and Shinsengumi blades hesitated, both dark with a monster's blood.

No fool, Battousai took the opening and bolted.

"Human magic and my own hate," the winged demon spat now. "No power of Oberon's Children can pass them."

"Oberon?" Kenshin panted.

"Shape-shifters. Changelings. _Youkai_, you call them-"

Only a sudden tension in her wings warned him. He dodged again, trying to draw on the speed that should be there-

Tearing pain in his shoulder told him it wasn't.

"How does it feel?" Demona flexed her claws to be sure he caught the glisten of blood in the moonlight, laughing soundlessly. "To be only human."

__

Human? Kenshin took the chance to breathe as she gloated, mind awhirl with confusion. His sword felt heavier than it should; his movements slow, clumsy, with none of the easy grace he'd reclaimed these past few days. _Human. When I denied the hitokiri - I was human. I was at peace._

The sticky wetness of others' blood on his hands mocked him, pulling against his skin when he tried not to think.

__

I wanted peace. I wanted to be human, not a killer. I wanted to live, and love, and die in the world of Meiji; the world I gave so much to create. The time of hitokiri was past. I accepted that.

But I wasn't... whole....

"Why?" Kenshin asked raggedly. "Why have you done this? It has been decades since Kyoto-"

"Fool!" Her blue tail lashed; she coiled on herself, preparing to strike. "You truly believe this has anything to do with a petty _human_ war?"

"Petty-!" An outraged Chinese voice snapped, cut short by the cold touch of Aoshi's kodachi under his chin.

"Call your soldiers off, Li Tang," the onmitsu leader said coolly. "We only want the curse-casters. No one else has to die."

"Shinomori Aoshi." The Chinese spymaster smiled coldly. "Our trap was better than we knew."

"You aim for Himura-san, hit us, and you think you set a _good_ trap?" Misao muttered, kunai at the ready. "I did better when I was sixteen!"

"Strike if you dare," Tang sneered, staring into Aoshi's cold gaze. "My men have their orders. And you've seen what the masters can do to your magic. None of you will leave here alive-"

He jerked then, gloating wiped away in one slow slide into shock.

Saitou stepped back, blade wet and red. "Never invite a Miburo to kill you, spy."

__

No reaction, Kenshin thought coolly, weighing Demona's stance. He might not have his ki sense, but he still had eyes. _Tang was no ally of hers. But still...._ "End this now," he pleaded. "Have we not both seen enough death? I have left the government's service. Himura Kenshin is believed dead. Is that not what you wished?" Wakazashi sheathed, he held out an empty hand. "If there is still vengeance in your heart, bring it to me. Break the curse. Let these innocents go free."

"There are no innocents!" Eyes glowing like the pits of hell, she charged.

----------

__

That's Kenshin, Sanosuke thought, stunned. Shock cost him his balance; he clattered onto the floor, wincing as his palm landed on a bit of shattered chain left over from his aborted escape. Red hair, cross-shaped scar, the way he held a blade - it had to be Kenshin. _But - he looks-_

He looked like Demona was about to make rurouni cutlets out of him, that's what he looked like. "Damn it, Kenshin - stop playing with her and Ryuu Tsui Sen her ass!"

"Playing, he is not," Black said silkily.

A wave of White's elegant fingers shifted the glowing image's focus, to the knot of entranced curse-casters chanting in the next room. "So long as they hold the wards intact, the dragon is powerless."

"But you can save him," Blonde noted. "_If_ you wish...."

Chains rattling as he got to his knees, Sano shook his head. "No."

"No?" A three-part chorus of amused disbelief.

"The choice is simple."

"Do as we wish, and they live."

"Refuse, and death will claim its own."

"No," Sano said firmly. _Is there-? Yeah. Just enough give in these chains, so long as those guards are still out of it._ "Whatever you want, whatever you're offering - no. I believe in Kenshin." Eyes still holding those inhuman gazes, he spat into his hands. "And like I said, I _know_ what you are."

Arms still chained together, he threw.

Coated with human saliva, the shard of iron chain caught Blonde in the throat.

----------

A three-part scream tore through the night. Demona started at the sound, claws jerking just high enough for Kenshin to slide under her blow.

__

Training's still there, the swordsman thought clinically. _I still know the sword. But I don't have the strength or speed for Hiten Mitsurugi-_

And he laughed.

"Die!" Demona snarled. Talons slashed out-

Met steel, as violet eyes stared unflinching into crimson.

__

Upper block. Parry. Side block. Head, head, and flow _left-_

Yahiko wasn't the only one who could learn by watching.

"Katsujin-ken. Kamiya Kasshin Ryu." Kaoru's voice trembled. Her fist and bokken hit enspelled air, pounding against glowing violet. "Kenshin!"

"Swords that give life?" Demona leapt back, not even breathing hard as she studied his defensive stance. "You're an optimist, Battousai. Or a fool. A sword that defends without killing depends on weight of numbers, or outlasting your opponent." Her lip curled. "And no _human_ can outlast a gargoyle."

"I did not believe one could, that I did not," Kenshin said softly. Performed a quick chiburi, and untied the saya from his obi to sheath his blade. The confines of the circle were tight... but his defense had won him just enough room. "Still, human or youkai...."

__

I am still myself. Still...

"Himura Kenshin."

__

Hitokiri Battousai.

The press of the saya against his left arm was familiar, comforting; the stance, instinctive as breathing.

__

"And when I say I'll kill you, all you can do is die."

----------

__

Battou-jutsu stance, Demona realized, hesitating. _He can't possibly think he's fast enough!_

She was a gargoyle, and he was human. Worse than human; a halfling of magic's blood, stripped of the power and speed such creatures had as their birthright. Weaker than she would be, suddenly cursed into human form.

__

He has no chance. But his life is bleeding away, and he knows it. Red lips curled into a cruel smile. _Well, if you're so eager to die...._ She leaped.

__

Blur of steel - but he's human, _not-_

Pain.

Blood in her mouth.

An icy sharpness in her neck.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu, Battou-jutsu."

Pain.

A sickening slide of steel out of her throat.

"I spent fifteen years with a sakabatou," Battousai's cold voice said as the world faded away. "Compensating for a slower draw."

"But-" Demona fought for the words. This _could not_ be. "You're _human_...."

"Demon, human, rurouni... _hitokiri wa hitokiri._" Warm and sticky with blood, gentle hands brushed her hair from her face. "I would I could wish you peace."

----------

A/N: Oberon's Children are affected by iron. Youkai aren't; at least no more than any non-supernatural creature would be. But according to some of the Japanese folklore I've read, they can be poisoned by human spit. So Sano just got lucky.

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shugyosha - student warrior.

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Ma chroidh - Gaelic, "my heart".

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kunai - throwing knives.

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chiburi - flicking blood from the blade.

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saya - sheath.


	4. Chapter 4

-

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He killed her.

The thought ran around and around in Kaoru's head as she pounded on unyielding air, tears trickling down her cheeks; a foolish chain of words, given the blood she'd seen on Kenshin's blade before he was ever trapped in the demon's circle.

__

He killed her. He killed her. He killed her...

Protecting us.

All for nothing. She'd felt a breath of freedom with that slice of steel, a momentary lapse in the curse's hold - then acid ice had clamped down once more. The circle was still glowing, the fever still eating at them all. Misao and Megumi were white-faced and wobbling on their feet; Benkai had crumpled near the steps of the silent house behind them, red lines lacing arms and throat.

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The curse breaks if the caster dies. So- Involuntarily, her eyes flicked to the house. So quiet, after that scream?

"Go."

Kaoru jerked at that familiar voice. "Kenshin-"

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"Go." His eyes were still violet, but his tone hard and chill as if he faced Saitou over drawn blades.

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But - to kill - I-

"You are the master of the swords that save life." Bleeding, Kenshin leaned on sparking air, cold gaze fixed on a still brown kimono. "Save his."

She ran.

Wooden steps rattled under her sandals; Kaoru raced for the door, hoping speed would startle whoever was still in there enough that she could knock them out before they had time to counterattack. _I can't kill. But I can't let Benkai die. But I can't-_

A hard hand yanked her aside, just as a blot of purple lightning struck where she'd been standing. "Far enough, Tanuki."

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Oooh, I hate that name! Temper overriding good sense, she tried to bokken Saitou a good one-

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Thunk.

A very surprised Chinese feng shui master slumped to the floor, eyes swirling.

And a shiver of fever... lifted away.

"They don't have to be dead," Kaoru realized, trading blows with a mad Chinese woman with a black-stained staff. Felt her hair prickle from static, as yet another bolt passed close enough to singe her sleeve. "They don't have to be-"

The far wall exploded.

-

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Guess the kami's rules about youkai not interfering with humans kind of get thrown out the window when you smack 'em a good one...

Sanosuke shook off the last of the chains, dodging balls of white fire that sailed up, over, and around him, thrown by the triplet of now-withered crones out for his blood. The gargoyle kitten was clinging to his jacket like a sack of horse chestnut burrs, wailing for Mama Cat. His guards lay broken on the floor, holes where their hearts should be and horror fixed on their faces. _Poor bastards never stood a chance._

__

"Mortal." The three-part voice was like wind hammering the shore; like a typhoon tearing the last planks of a ship asunder. _"You will learn what it is to face us."_

"I've-" The white blast flung him against a bit of still-standing wall; Sano barely twisted in time to keep from crushing the kitten. Brown eyes went wide as wood flowed, seizing him in thorny manacles. "I've got a _name_, damn it!"

"Not for much longer." Black raised a wrinkled hand.

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"Aku. Soku. Zan."

Gasping, White touched a trembling hand to the steel piercing her breast. "You... _dare_..."

A swirl of mist, and all three were gone.

Dazed as if he'd taken a Ryuu Tsui Sen, Sanosuke blinked up from the floor. Those shoes, that stance... no, it couldn't be. "Saitou?"

Wolf-yellow eyes narrowed. "Rooster-head."

"Nice to see you, too." Sanosuke felt his eyes slide shut. "Look out for the kitten. She's really not that bad... hell, why am I telling you, not like you're going to look out for a cat that isn't a cat..."

"Prrr?" Fur nudged his hand.

"Kitten?" Kaoru's voice, shocking him out of the gray haze of exhaustion. "Sano!"

"Jou-chan?" It couldn't be. The universe just wasn't that kind; he'd seen that, in Kenshin's ravaged body.

__

But what if it is?

Hardly daring to breathe, Sanosuke opened his eyes.

Familiar blue smiled back at him. "Hey."

"Jou-chan." He blinked back tears. Blood everywhere, bodies everywhere, but none of them were hers. Nothing else mattered. "You look... great."

"And _you_ look like ten miles of Tokaido potholes!" A bokken waved threateningly under his nose, neat match to the blistered hand helping him sit up. "Have you seen what your hand looks like? Megumi's going to tie you up and stuff you in a coffin!"

Sano grinned. "Oooh, kinky..." His stomach suddenly dropped to his ankles. "Wait. Megumi's _here?_"

"Ahou." Saitou snatched up the last groaning curse-caster from the floor, the shaven Chinese head bearing an all-too-characteristic bokken-knot. "Outside."

__

Outside? You mean I have to move? Biting back a whimper, Sanosuke got to his feet. He was a man. He was tough. He was...

About to fall over.

Kitten squirming in her grasp, Kaoru lodged herself under Sano's arm, tugging him back into balance when his steps faltered. "We were so worried about you, you jerk! But you probably don't know what's going on, it's been a nightmare-"

"Some Chinese spy hired that Demona and these feng shui guys to curse Kenshin, and you, and kill us," Sano said matter-of-factly, counting bodies as he passed them. "Looks like between you and those weird youkai sisters the Wolf chased off, you got 'em all. Except for that guy Saitou's got. Ghost Face, I think they called him." He drew in a welcome breath of night air as they stepped outside. _Wait a second. Something's missing._ "Hey." He swiped a hand at his forehead, feeling a blessed absence of heat. "You got the curse!"

"Almost."

__

"Kenshin." Sanosuke slid to a stop on the veranda stairs, wobbling against Kaoru. _I thought you were dying. I_ knew _you were dying._

Or maybe he had. This Kenshin wasn't weary and sick, so haunted by guilt and remorse he'd lost himself healing everyone but his own family. This Kenshin stood straight and strong as Megumi bent over a fallen man in glasses and a brown kimono, hand by his daisho, ready for any attackers they'd missed. Long red hair glowed like flame over his blue gi, his cross-shaped scar was clear and unfaded as if it'd been made the year before, and his eyes-

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Amber. Sanosuke swallowed, looking over the clearing again. Seeing what he'd missed before; while some bodies had the characteristic whirling slices of Shinomori's Kaiten Kenbu, and others the deep thrust of Saitou's Gatotsu, all too many bore the neat, clean slashes of Hiten Mitsurugi.

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Battousai's angry ghost...

No. No, he couldn't be a ghost. The small figure had feet.

Saitou arched a brow. "He broke the circle?"

"Wards of that nature require active concentration." Aoshi appeared out of shadows, cleaning his kodachi. "Disrupt that, and they shatter without further interference."

"I can't break Benkai's fever." Megumi's voice was clinical, a doctor's, right hand taking the young man's pulse with studied calm. But her left fist clenched on her medical bag, knuckles white. "I don't know why. It broke for the rest of us."

"Guess." Dropping his prisoner to blood-soaked earth, Saitou raised his blade. "Make your farewells to this world, enchanter."

Ghost Face's shoulders shook. _Good_, Sanosuke thought maliciously. _Creep ought to be cowering..._

Hang on a sec. He's not shaking.

He's laughing!

"Go ahead." The curse-caster's Japanese was rough, shot through with overtones of the Mongolian plains. "Kill me. Murder me as you did the others! Kill me, and watch him wither away. His own broken oath binds the curse to him; I can taste it in the air, tearing at his heart. There's nothing you can do to save him."

"No," Kenshin said softly. Amber softened, violet glimmering in its depths. "There is."

-

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So this is what death feels like.

The rest of the world was dim and cold, but Benkai could still feel himself breathing. It hurt.

It'd be so much easier just to stop.

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Himura promised he'd bring me home. I don't want to... make him break his word...

"What is your name?"

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You know. He couldn't get the words out. Not that it mattered.

"What is your name?" Firm. Fierce. It _demanded_ an answer.

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Breathe in. Air. "Private Enomouto Benkai, translator. Commission date..."

"A soldier's name. Unfit for an honorable _shugyosha_." A known hand gripped his shoulder, small and warm and strong as steel. "From now on, you are Enomouto Benkai of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu."

And within him, something - shattered.

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No - my duty-

Was gone, fading like dreams in the dawn. All that was real was Kenshin's hand on his shoulder, the solid weight of the bokken in his belt, and the cold nose brushing curious whiskers over his foot.

"A hatchling?" Benkai whispered, blinking at the white glow of young eyes. Forget the sudden absence of the odd weight he couldn't quite remember; like a spiked band on his heart that had somehow rusted free, leaving only echoes of pain, and honor, and regret. This... _this_ was real.

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She needs me. They need me.

"A watchbeast this young, on her own?" Benkai fought to sit up. "Where's the rest of her clan?"

"Isn't any rest of her clan," a tall, battered guy in torn whites said tiredly.

"Sagara Sanosuke?" Benkai hazarded. "What do you mean, no clan? She can't be more than a few days old!"

"Yeah. Well." Sanosuke was still giving him a very odd look; then the tired fighter shook it off. "Long story short... ah hell, I'd better just show you."

-

Demona gasped in smoke-stained air, blinking away the black rheum of death on her eyes. Burned flesh crumbled away as she sat up, revealing whole skin underneath. _How... how long was I...?_

Long enough, apparently. The clearing she'd meant to make a new clanhold was empty save for ashes and charred bodies.

Empty, and silent.

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I hear no one. No one.

A body size let her identify as Dragonfly's sprawled just inside the ruins of the front doorway, blackened skull gaping in empty surprise. Demona ignored the mess, going through the ash of the curse-caster's sleeves and pouches with methodical slowness, then frantic haste.

No seal.

Fear clenching talons in her heart, Demona bolted for what had been the rookery. Cooked blood, half-charred human bodies, shattered chains, spell-blasted walls...

And not a trace of eggs. Or the hatchling.

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"Noooo!"

-

Dawn broke just as the watchbeast finished her skin of goat's milk. She yawned, curled into a fuzzy, tiger-striped pile next to the hay-padded eggs, and hardened into stone.

"You're sure she's not an oni?" Sano said in an undertone.

Rubbing the urge to sleep away from his face, Kenshin let their voices draw him out of the sad melancholy left after they'd washed the blood away. Sano had protested that he was fine, but Megumi had taken one look at the battered fighter and ordered him into the wagon with their odd cargo.

Benkai laughed, setting down the empty skin against the side of their appropriated wagon. "Trust me, Sano, all gargoyles do that. They're really good people. There's a whole clan in Ishimura, watching over our nights; just try telling them about the sword-ban!" He shrugged. "Though most gargoyles didn't carry swords even before it. With their strength and speed, they're more into jujitsu. They know how to dodge blades, but only a few of them, like Tomi-san, ever really bother to learn how to use them."

"He was your teacher?" Kaoru asked, squeezing Kenshin's hand in firm reassurance as they kept pace with the rolling wheels. _I know,_ her eyes said. _I know it hurts._

__

But I love you.

"He tried," Benkai said sheepishly. "I just couldn't seem to get it. Not until-" He hesitated. Bit his lip. "Himura-san. What did you _do?_"

"What my shishou did for me, long ago." Kenshin smiled. "Helped you find the strength within yourself to live."

"No." Gripping the side of the wagon, Benkai shook his head. "No, it's more than that."

"More than that?" Wide-eyed, Kaoru looked between them.

Benkai swallowed dryly. "I'm not who I was yesterday, am I?"

Kenshin's smile faded. "No. No, I think that you are not. And I do not think you will be able to reclaim that self, that I do not." His gaze went distant. "A sword is a weapon. Hiten Mitsurugi is satsujin-ken; it kills, even as it protects. To save your life, I slew the soldier within you. As my shishou once slew the child within me."

"Shinta," Kaoru whispered.

"I am not him anymore, beloved." And it hurt, it hurt so much to say it. Even more than it hurt to know it. As he had finally known it, facing a creature that wanted nothing more than his family's death.

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Human, hanyou, youkai - I am still myself.

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And that self... is not Shinta.

"I spent years trying to become him again. Trying to reclaim the child who had never touched a blade. All that time, chasing a ghost, when I should have been with you. When I could have been happy, had I only accepted who - and what - I was." Kenshin touched black hair, fearing to look in her eyes. "I hope... someday you can forgive me."

"Kenshin..."

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I've hurt her. Again. He closed his eyes, heart aching.

"You _baka!_" _Thwack._

"Oro!"

"Some Hiten Mitsurugi master," Sano muttered, leaning over the side to yank up on a blue gi. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two hands...?"

"Funny. Get in here." Sano dumped Kenshin on the wagon floor. Looked him over, shook his head, and swung himself over the wagon's side. "Think I want to talk to a certain fox-lady anyway. All those times I swore I saw kitsune-ears on her, and she never 'fessed up - huh!"

"Because she didn't know, you jerk!" Kaoru jumped into the argument. "You think Kenshin knew he was part dragon?"

Sano grinned, striding forward to give Saitou and the ninjas on point a nod, and wink at Megumi handling the reins. "Guess you guys are going to think twice when I tell you something's a tanuki trick, huh?"

Kaoru hurried to catch up to his longer strides. "Trains are not tanuki!"

"Oh yeah? You checked all of them?"

"Why, you-"

Kenshin smiled as they settled back into the old, familiar arguments, feeling the parry and thrust of their ki like patterns of a comforting kata. It felt good. Like home.

Almost good enough to distract him from what he had done.

"It doesn't feel wrong, you know," Benkai said quietly. "It just feels - different." He interlaced his fingers, searching for words. "Like standing by a stove after a winter earth-shock. Everything's upside-down, some of it's in pieces... but I'm okay. Really."

"It will feel more than different, soon enough," Kenshin said bluntly. _There is so much I should tell you. So much I should say._

But his gaze fell on a cloth-wrapped bundle behind Megumi, and caution barred the words from his tongue. "I will tell you more when we are away from here."

Benkai followed his gaze to the bound and unconscious feng shui master. "Megumi said he'll be out for hours." Doubt rang in the young ronin's voice. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I have had my fill of death." Kenshin suppressed a shudder at his own words. Too true. Gods, far too true. Something within him had... not _reveled_ at the deaths, but...

The shock of steel through flesh. The savory salt of blood-smell in the air. The pulse of dying ki swept up by his own as their owners' hearts failed. It had sung to him, sweet as the siren call of Kaoru's love.

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Saitou was right, curse it all. I was... hungry.

Now Battousai slept within him like a sweet-sticky child, finally sated after an O'bon feast. Ready to respond to attack if any threatened, but otherwise content to wander in peaceful dream.

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As he... I... was content to leave Ghost Face among the living, once we knew his hold on the curse was broken. Kenshin breathed deep of country air, feeling the hitokiri's strength inextricably mixed with the rurouni's in his veins. _Two sides of a self, but still, we are one._

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Yet - if we leave such a curse-caster living, what do we do with him?

Benkai laughed suddenly.

Kenshin arched a questioning brow. "Aa?"

"I just... well..." The ronin shrugged. "You realize, we probably just took out the one thing the Chinese had that our army couldn't handle? And if I'd done my duty as a soldier, I never could have - we couldn't have..." Words died as Benkai paled.

"So," Kenshin said softly, feeling the shock finally ripple through Benkai's ki. "Now it hurts."

"Oh gods." Pain radiated from the young warrior as he hugged himself against the chill. Against the _knowing_ of what he was... and what he could no longer be.

Working with the jostle of the wagon, Kenshin leaned himself against the shaking young man. "So now you know." He took a chill hand within his own, finding the acupressure points that would soothe a torn heart. "A soldier is not a swordsman. A soldier is a child of guns and the fog of war; a creature of bullets and cannon and never, never knowing the face of those you slay. Though a soldier, like a swordsman, is trained to kill... he is first a human being. And most humans would never, _could_ never, knowingly lift hand against another to kill." Press and soothe. Shift the grip slightly, and press again, fighting the body's slide into shock. He could lose this young one in a heartbeat. "For most, there is a barrier in the soul. A lock that holds back the killer within. And though soldiers may slip it with drink or hate or the mob's fury of their troop firing as one... still, it remains."

Benkai blinked. Nodded slowly. "Sergeant Deguchi said something like that," he whispered. "That - some soldiers hesitate-"

"_All_ soldiers hesitate," Kenshin said bluntly. "A swordsman cannot."

Behind glass, dark brown sought his gaze, wide with disbelief. _No_, Kenshin could read in that pale face. _Tell me it's not true!_

"To create a swordsman, to unlock the strength within you that could fight spells of malice, I... shattered that lock. It will never hold you again." Violet met that fearful glance, gentle and inexorable as the tide. "All that will keep you from murder is the strength of your own heart."

Benkai shook his head, ghostly pale. "I'm - I'm not that strong-"

"You are."

"How can you _know?_"

So much agony in those quiet words. Kenshin wanted to soothe it, to whisper gently to the injured child until it was lulled into sleep...

But gentleness was not the answer. "Benkai. _Look_ at me."

Glass-shaded brown met amber, and shuddered.

"You see?" Battousai said matter-of-factly. "I am here, and you do not flee. You have the strength, Benkai." Amber softened, gaining flecks of violet. "And since we have the strength _not_ to slay this enemy of ours, _shugyosha_... what shall we do with him?"

"Himura." Aoshi's voice, ghosting back on the morning breeze.

Kenshin extended his ki sense outward, catching the worried and wary auras of Yan's fellow villagers. "I wondered how long it would take our encounter to draw notice, that I did." He arched a red brow at the ronin; silent question.

Benkai started, breath settling back into something nearer normal. Turned a considering look on the limp bundle of curse-caster. "You know," he said slowly, "I think I have an idea."

-

Nguyen Sun watched the small party of battered Japanese approach, and tried not to sweat. It didn't matter that he was the headman of Red Creek village. It didn't matter that he had two dozen of best brawlers his farming settlement had ever seen backing him up. It didn't even matter that every last one of the foreigners was sporting bandages, dark-ringed eyes that spoke of a sleepless night, and an air of overall weariness that ordinarily would have had the nastier thugs among Nguyen's entourage licking their chops at the thought of easy prey.

No. What mattered was the wagon. A very ordinary wagon, drawn by a phlegmatic brown pony, carrying a pretty woman driver, a mysterious tarp-covered cargo, a cloth bundle the size of a thick rug, and one half-asleep Japanese redhead. A very memorable wagon the Chinese had brought through here not a month before.

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Red hair, Sun thought with a shiver, thinking queasily of the good silver bars hidden under his house, tacit exchange for his influence silencing his fellow villagers when they might have objected to the Chinese encampment. _The Japanese assassin._

Li hadn't said that was what he was, but Sun hadn't acted as a gatherer of information for China this long without knowing when to gather information for himself. Li had arranged for those... very odd people to take over the abandoned clan-house a few hills away. Li had brought in supplies, and soldiers, and quietly arranged for his people to keep watch for any Japanese heading this way. And paid well for the privilege. Li had said, without ever actually saying, that his people meant to work against Japan, reaching out through uncanny means to slay those accursed invaders in Seoul.

Li wasn't here. The wagon was. Add that to the noise and odd lights that the whole village had seen last night, dancing on the crest of the hill like far-off lightning; the smoke that still lingered in the air now, bringing the all too familiar scent of burning bodies...

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There's only six of them, Sun told himself sternly, looking over the redhead's companions; the lady wagon driver, a threadbare man in dirty whites with bandaged hands, a tall man in policeman's blue, and a pretty young miss in swordsman's gi and hakama. And, of course, the brown-clad translator. _Four to one. We can take them._

Wait. Weren't there supposed to be seven of them?

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Six, seven - what does it matter? And two of those are women! Pah, are you afraid just because they're carrying swords? The samurai are dead and gone!

Violet eyes met his, deepening to a steely blue. Almost as if that quiet gaze was flecked with fire...

Sun froze.

One of the Japanese men snorted, wolf-yellow eyes coldly amused. Said something in an undertone.

"Good morning!" The young translator stepped forward with a cheerful bow, bokken tucked through his obi. His accent was tolerable, even if it did smack of Seoul. "You are Nguyen Sun, yes? Yan mentioned you were the man to see about... matters around here."

"That was wise of him." Sun puffed out his chest and stalked forward, flash of fear pushed aside. He wasn't dealing with the assassin, after all; he was dealing with this impressionable young man. _Benkai, did Yan say his name was? Heh, the old carter was right. Far too transparent to hide his true nature._ Sun didn't bother to hide a smirk as he met that glass framed-gaze, probing for the weakness, the will to see good in others Sun could twist to his own advantage.

Brown eyes matched his glance, guileless and unafraid. "I think we've found something that belongs to you."

"Have you?" _Just how much of a fool_ are _you, boy? We're close in. We could take you all in an instant-_

"I think so." Still smiling, Benkai waved at the man in white. Who promptly plucked out the cloth-wrapped bundle and dumped it on the ground in front of Sun's second in command, Chen.

The bundle groaned. Chen threw him a wary look. Pulled away dark cotton.

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It can't be. Sun recoiled as if he'd unveiled a pit viper.

Chinese eyes glared up at him over a silken gag, black and hot with rage.

__

One of Li's enchanters!

"I'm sure you know what to do with this," Benkai said softly.

Sun swallowed. "Get out of here."

"But Boss," one of Chen's younger cousins objected.

"I said they're leaving!" Sun snapped. Glared at the young ronin in brown, painfully aware his heart wasn't in it. "Get on the main road and don't stop. Don't take anything from my people. Don't talk to them. Don't even _breathe_ near them if you can help it. Just _go_."

"_Arigatou_, Nguyen-san," the redhead said gently.

Not trusting his voice, Sun just stepped back, holding up a hand to stop his underlings as the wagon creaked past.

"We're just going to let them go?" Chen snarled as the laden wagon rounded the corner out of sight. "We could have-"

"Chen." Sun nodded at the forest clinging to the right side of the road. "What's up there?"

"A flock of-" The thickset man bit his lip, staring at the brown wings stuttering through the wind. "They had someone up there?"

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The eyes, Chen. I keep telling you to look at the eyes. I should take my own advice more often. Sun didn't know how Yan had missed it; the cloth-seller was getting older, but he wasn't blind.

__

Redhead's a killer. The others may be fighters, or not - but he would just walk through us in a rain of blood.

Even Benkai's eyes weren't innocent. That clear brown gaze had known what Sun and his men were capable of, what they meant to do... and was utterly confident they would never have the chance.

"Yes, Chen," Sun said dryly. "They had someone up there."

-

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Tanuki - raccoon-dog.

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Jou-chan - "Little Missy".

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Oni - ogre.

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Baka - idiot.

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Arigatou - thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

-

Sano pursed his lips in a soundless whistle as he looked over the bustling Korean seaport. They'd inched their way into the city over the past few hours, working street by careful street to this warehouse by the docks, avoiding anyone who looked official and no few hardcases just out to make a quick yen. Night couldn't disguise the lingering fires of the hosts of troops in plain view, or the sullen, cowed way the natives moved. "And you guys snuck out of here?"

Crouched on the edge of the rooftop slightly apart from the rest of them, eyes on shadows that might or might not be the two ninjas slipping off to scout the docks one more time, Saitou smirked. "We didn't have a rooster-headed idiot bumbling along in our wake."

"Hey!"

Looking between the two idiots, Megumi weighed her chances of taking them both out with the same burst of onmitsu sleeping powder. Misao had lent her three papery balls of it, just for times like this.

A bokken intervened, swooping down so close to Sano's nose he went cross-eyed. "All right, both of you keep it down!" Kaoru hissed in a low undertone. "Just because _most_ people don't look up, doesn't mean everybody does!" Cherry wood jabbed at Saitou. "You - over there and help my husband plan how to get us onto a ship without getting anybody killed." The bokken swung toward Sano. "You - get down there and take over watch for Benkai. If we're going to be responsible for these eggs, we're going to need his best guess on how we can load them onto a ship without scrambling them."

"All right, all right..." Shaking his head, Sanosuke headed for the ladder down.

Point made, Kaoru rested the tip of her bokken on the roof tiles. Cast Megumi a significant look.

The doctor blinked. _Huh?_

Kaoru rolled her eyes. Jerked her head toward the wooden ladder, still trembling with Sano's solid weight. Tapped her foot.

Hiding a blush, Megumi swung onto the rungs and started down.

The doctor set foot in the portside alley, looking uneasily toward piles of unclean straw and refuse leaning against rough walls. But there was no more movement there than rats, a pair of yellow, curl-tailed feral dogs, and the odd stunned pigeon could account for. Any rats of the two-legged variety had cleared out the moment Kenshin and Saitou had let their ken-ki flare. _I guess there's some advantages to traveling with Bakumatsu veterans._

Breathing shallowly against the scent of moldy hay and seaside rot, Megumi squared her shoulders and headed for the wagon. "So, any bright ideas?" Sano was saying.

"Hmm." Benkai hopped down from the wagon seat, scratched a curious watchbeast under the chin. "Chika always said eggs are tougher than you'd think. We shouldn't drop them, but as long as we treat them as gently as porcelain, they should do fine."

"Go tell the guys upstairs." Sanosuke jabbed a thumb toward the ladder. "And make sure you're crystal clear on the _gentle_ part. The Wolf up there loves property damage on a general basis, and every once in a while Kenshin loses the clueless act and takes out whole buildings." His gaze fell on her. "Ah... Megumi?"

__

Casual. Act casual. "I - ah - came to look at your hand, idiot."

"But I thought you just changed the bandages a few hours ago," Benkai blurted. Caught her fiery glance. "Right. I'll just - go talk to Saitou-san..."

"The kid is not dumb," Sano said in an undertone as Benkai scrambled up the ladder. "Kami. Was I ever that young?"

"Younger," Megumi said tartly. "Let me see."

She took his right hand in both of hers, feeling its warmth in the night, seeing the strength in broad fingers that could shatter trees or pull a drowning friend from a river with the same casual ease. What would it be like to feel those fingers trace down her cheek, tingling down the side of her throat?

__

Mind on your work. Megumi felt along cloth and flesh-wrapped bones, pressing just hard enough to check ligaments and muscles were in their proper places.

"Ow. Ow!"

"Congratulations. All this time, and you didn't forget the technique." She pressed her way along his tendons up his wrist to his forearm, earning herself more dirty looks. "Just let it rest for a few days. You can get by with plain brawling for a while, can't you?"

"If we're lucky." Sano's jaw tightened. "Speaking of techniques..."

Megumi nodded slowly. _Now we come to it._ "Kenshin's fine." An ironic smile tugged at her lips. "He could use a few good meals and a week of sleep, but he may be in better shape than he was when he washed up on Kaoru's engawa in the first place."

Sano's jaw worked. He shook his head. "How?"

"He's not... we're not... entirely human." Megumi dropped his hand, looking into the gathering shadows. "Aoshi says what hurt Kenshin was something like how the Shin no Ippou works. The mind overriding the body. Most hanyou can't deny what they are, but ryuu-hanyou... they have so much magic, it can turn in on itself. Especially if they're afraid of what they are. What they can do." She rubbed her fingers over each other, feeling chill. "You saved him, you know. You're his friend. He trusts you. When you brought him a death... you showed his youkai blood you knew what he was. What he needed. That you accepted it. _Trusted_ it. You woke it up just enough that it started fighting to live."

"I woke up Battousai." Sanosuke's voice was neutral. Expressionless.

"Yes." _And now I don't know what to do. I know you're not an idiot, I know you're listening._ "Kenshin hates to kill. But... he _can't_ live without Battousai. Hiten Mitsurugi is his heart and soul. Without the demon, his own soul will kill him." Megumi felt her throat go dry. "And the demon needs blood."

Silence. Megumi fought to stand still, when all she wanted to do was pace. Or run. Or weep.

"So what do you need?"

"I don't want it to be about need!" Megumi burst out. "I _care_ about you, you jerk, kami only know why. Cocky, footloose, always think you're not good enough for the rest of us - _k'so_, you know the cops aren't _that_ persistent! You could have come back years ago, back to us, to... me..." She turned away, fists clenched.

"Hey. Hey." Awkward arms wrapped around her from behind. A chin rested against her hair as Sanosuke drew her into his embrace. "I didn't know foxes could cry."

"Why not? Dragons do." She pressed the back of her hand against the warm flow of tears. "I don't want it to be about need..."

"So maybe we should just start with talking, huh?" He hugged her a little closer. "How's a lovely fox-lady like you wind up in a family of doctors?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But there was a story about my grandmother, Suma. That she was born floppy and blue, not breathing. The midwife was about to tell her mother it wasn't live when something distracted her. Something red."

Sano's face rested against her cheek. "Fox-red?"

"She always said so." At last, her eyes had stopped betraying her. "And then Suma cried, and the midwife looked back, and she was - fine. Pink as any little imp." Megumi shrugged. "And Great-grandmother left offerings to Inari for the rest of her life."

"Sounds like a good idea." Sano let go. Walked around her to look her in the eye. "Look, fox- Megumi. I'm coming with you guys because _I_ want to, get it?"

"And we're your ticket out of Korea," Megumi said bluntly.

"Well, yeah - no! It's not that. _K'so_, Megumi, just _listen_." He looked aside, searching for words. "Walking around the world, it's fun. Lets you forget about your problems. For a while. But all the time I was gone, there was something missing. Something I needed. And it sure as heck wasn't Tokyo." He shrugged, giving her a shy smile. "So what do you say? I think I wore out my feet. Want to try putting them down somewhere instead. Somewhere there's someone who cares enough to chase me down across a whole ocean and drag me back by my ear."

Megumi crossed her arms, giving him a skeptical look. _Don't you dare think you get off that easy, you idiot!_ "And you think I'd know where this somewhere might be."

"I'm not sure any of us knows _where_, yet," Sanosuke admitted. "Bits I've heard so far say Tokyo's out. Kyoto's probably a bad choice too; there's still enough old-timers around, there's no way Kenshin could walk down the streets without causing a panic. But there's got to be somewhere." He looked at her hopefully. "And... I already know the someone. If you want me - mmph!"

Sanosuke, Megumi reflected in the long seconds before she came up for air, was not a bad kisser.

"So," Sano said breathlessly, tangling a bandaged hand in her hair, "Is that a yes?"

"You're a gambler. Call it an opening bid." Amazing how a little play of lips and tongue could speed the pulse, make breathing hard as if they'd been transported to the top of Mt. Fuji. "What will you raise me?"

"Hmm." He bent back to her willing mouth, fingertips massaging her neck and scalp into slow tingles. "Let's see-"

"Sanosuke! Megumi-san!" Cotton whispered against the wooden ladder; the only sound that hinted at Kenshin's location. "We've sensed... kami, there's no time. We have to move!"

"Gotcha," Sano said reluctantly. "Okay, we're - ow!"

Megumi winced, ducking her head. "Move your fingers, you jerk!"

"I'm trying not to rip out your hair, damn it! It's stuck in the tape-"

A sigh drifted down. "Oro..."

-

__

They're here. I know they're here.

Demona perched on one of the stronger rooftops, hate seething in her heart. Only a few hours until dawn. Until oblivion would take her, locking away all her hurt and hate until night fell once more. She should be looking for a place to ride out the daylight.

She should be. She wasn't. Once again, humans had shattered a clan. Once again, they'd taken advantage of her weakness to steal her children away. Just as that accursed Princess Katherine and the Magus had, all those centuries ago at the ruins of Castle Wyvern.

__

They're Japanese. They came here to break the curse. Now they'll be fleeing back to that accursed island. With the eggs.

Assuming the humans hadn't simply shattered them at dawn.

__

No! I will not lose hope. They're alive. They must be here!

All she had to do was find them.

-

The leathery sound of wings swooped low. Kaoru shivered, unconsciously holding her breath. _What does it take to stop her?_

Although from the way Kenshin's fingers tightened on her arm where they huddled in the dark, her husband's thoughts were running more along the lines of, _what does it take to_ kill _her?_

"I never would have believed I'd say this, but we need a miko," Saitou growled.

"She's a gargoyle!" Benkai hissed. "Not a demon."

"I've killed her three times. As has Battousai. We've tried blades, disemboweling, burning her to ash... even the _tori atama_'s had his shot. You tell _me_ what she is, ronin."

Benkai shut up.

"Kenshin!" Misao's voice hissed from above. "Aoshi-sama has a plan."

"One that will get us to the _Island Star?_" Kenshin asked, voice quiet as it could be and still carry up to where the kunoichi perched. They were close to the slow, steady merchant freighter. If they could just get to it, it'd be a slow ride back to Japan, but a safe one.

"Well... no." Misao paused. "But he says Saitou-san will like it!"

Kaoru's heart sank. _I have a bad feeling about this._

-

__

Slow breaths. In, out. Listen. Feel. She's up there. Impatient. Angry. She's listening. Looking. Turning this way - now!

Kenshin darted out of the shadows, knowing his hair would catch the light of one stray red lantern by a teahouse. Behind and above, he felt the shock of surprise, recognition, _hate-_

__

Time to run.

Wind swooshed in leathery skin, bearing fangs and claws in a deadly stoop.

__

Wait, wait - now!

He leapt aside as she slashed through air, catching the edge of wooden roof beams and flipping himself upward-

__

Damn Korean thatch!

Toes clamped on his sandal thongs, Kenshin wrestled his way free of the prickly bundles, forced to wriggle across the primitive roof rather than run. _Kami - haven't these people_ ever _heard of fire codes - the_ warehouses _have tile roofs, no surprise, the merchants treat their goods better than their people-_

A shriek, and claws brushed his tail of red hair as he let himself fall, touching down on ground and... well, perhaps he'd rather not look at that too closely.

__

I'm burning these sandals after we leave land, I swear.

And that was his last true thought for some time. Instinct took over, sifting his senses for paths that would lead the winged death behind him a grueling chase over walls and roofs, all his will and reason narrowed down to one pure purpose.

Stay one step ahead of her. Just one.

__

Here's the time you need, Aoshi. Use it.

-

__

Crash!

Whirrr-

Splash!

Yet another screaming pirate tumbled down the gangplank; Kaoru shook her head, and thumped the man out of his misery. _Trust Aoshi to find one of the few outlaw ships that would dare put into this port while half the Japanese Army's here._

Chafing his hands in the pre-dawn chill, Benkai hovered by the wagon. "Is it me, or are they having too much fun?"

"It's not you," Megumi said dryly, cocking an ear to the giggles as Misao made liberal use of sleeping powder, kunai, and one inadvertent flash of thighs at the stunned helmsman. The hilt of Aoshi's kodachi took that one behind the ear; the pirate crumpled like a wet rag. "They'd better make this quick, or the night watch is going to realize this isn't just another sailors' brawl."

"Don't slow me down, ahou!"

"Who took away your chew-toy, wolf?"

More shrieks. Wood shattered.

"We need the hull," Kaoru sighed. "In one piece..."

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Benkai stared back into the sleeping city. "We should have gone with him."

"None of us could keep up with Kenshin," Kaoru said frankly. "He's done this before." _Years before._ "He's really, really good at it." _He's alive. Despite a lot of Shinsengumi trying to change that._

"So the legends are true?" the young man asked cautiously.

"Depends on which legends," Megumi chuckled. "He's not eight feet tall, with eyes of fire and a sword of lightning. But he is deadly, loyal, exasperating, stubborn as Mt. Fuji, _far_ too idealistic for his own good-"

Kaoru glanced at a flicker of movement. Tried to hide a smile.

"-And... standing right behind me, isn't he?"

Benkai tried to stifle his snicker. Failed miserably.

"Kenshin!" Kaoru took a closer look at her panting husband, checking for damage. No blood, at least no more than that left over from last night. But there were pale tufts of straw dotting red hair, amber stains that smelled of rice wine all over the blue gi and hakama, and - was that a shred of golden silk veil, tangled over his shoulder? "What happened to you?"

"Demona's persistent, that she is," Kenshin gasped out. "I think I lost her in the teahouse. For a time."

Steam shot from Kaoru's ears. "And just _what_ were you doing in a teahouse?"

"More damage than half a dozen drunken samurai," her husband admitted sheepishly. "The half-dozen I interrupted at their courting of the local geisha; it seems even sake-sodden officers' swords will slow a demon if you encourage enough of them to point the right way..."

"Battousai! Stop dawdling and get up here!"

"Ah The wolf howls." Laughter gleaming in violet eyes, Kenshin blurred up the gangplank.

__

Thwack-thwack-CRASH.

Silence.

"It truly is not so difficult a decision, that it is not," Kenshin's earnest voice drifted from the still-shuddering ship.

"Um..." Came a shaky stranger's reply.

"All we require is transport to Yokohama. For which we can pay. And which I am certain you and your crew can - and will - provide. If you wish to remain on Shura-dono's good side, _ne?_"

"Um..."

"Shura?" Benkai whispered to Kaoru. "Wait - he doesn't mean the old pirate queen?"

"He does." Kaoru tightened her grip on her bokken. "I _thought_ he said something about getting mixed up with shady types again the last time he went out on one of his pilgrimages. Ooo, when I get him home..."

"Then it's decided," Kenshin said briskly, stepping over to the rail to wave them aboard. "Let's go."

"What's wrong?" Kaoru asked in an undertone a few minutes later, as the bruised pirates started casting off before they'd even finished stowing the wagon contents. "Why are we hurrying?"

"Because they are." Kenshin nodded toward a half-dozen disreputable fishing boats much like the vessel they currently stood on. All had small lanterns bobbing around their decks, as crews finished a few last tasks before setting off in the pre-dawn darkness. "Even in this unsettled time, they'll be following the tide out to fish within the hour. Or what their cargo manifests will swear is fish, when they bring it into harbor." He listened to the wind. "Even should Demona realize we sought the port, I doubt she will find us in time."

-

__

Damn them!

Demona spat out blood from a torn lip, clinging to the night-cold smokestack of a Japanese troopship. Sake stained her deerskin top, bits of wood and straw clogged her red mane, and the violet membrane of one wing was half-ribbons from screaming officers' swords.

__

Damn him!

In retrospect, the little halfling's plan was obvious. Stall. Stall while seeming just one breath ahead, just one swipe of talons away from bloody vengeance...

She snarled an old French curse, red-glowing eyes fixed on the pirate ship hastening toward open waters. _There. They are there._

But she'd never make it to the ship. Not with dawn fast approaching, and her wing near too damaged to glide.

At least, she'd never make it to _that_ ship.

__

I will not be denied!

Determined, Demona spread her wings and dove.

-

"They are there," the blonde Weird Sister hissed, wrinkles still marring her perfect face.

"Safe from our magic, on running water," her black-haired sister snapped.

"But not - quite - out of reach." White hair fanned back as the third blew across her hand, wafting a gust into a gargoyle's torn wings.

Their unwitting servant soared a foot farther, swooping down into the hold before any human could catch sight of her.

"And now we must wait."

"Until sunset."

"But what is time, to an immortal?"

-

"Who'd have thought," Sano said in an undertone, watching the crew draw in long-lines for shark and marlin. Fish twisted and glimmered in the fading twilight, blue scales catching glints of gold and red fire. "They really are fishermen."

"Sometimes." Kenshin knelt by his friend next to the wall of the helmroom; the most out of the way place on a deck they'd found. That it had let all of their band takes turns keeping an eye on captain and officers to make sure no one tried to dump their unwanted passengers overboard was just an added bonus. "Sanosuke. Are you... all right?"

"Going to have nightmares about that Dragonfly for months," Sano said bluntly, chafing his arms as if he could still feel the twitch of purple lightning down his nerves. "Psycho bastard. At least he had the decency to stay dead."

Kenshin's eyes slid away from his. "That wasn't what I meant."

"I know."

Quiet wrapped them, broken by the time-honored curses of the crew, the slap of waves against the hull.

__

Maybe if I wait, he'll... ah, who are you kidding, Sagara. Kenshin can outwait you any day of the week. "A hitokiri is a hitokiri until the day he dies," Sano said bluntly. "First I didn't believe it. Then I thought it had to be wrong. You _stopped_ killing. Which meant your weren't a hitokiri anymore, right? Only Saitou, Hiko, Shishio - they were all so sure you _were_." He shook his head. "Took me years to realize I just didn't get it, and even longer to track down somebody to ask."

Kenshin's fingers wove together, unnaturally still.

"There's still a couple of people from Choushuu who worked with the shadow assassins," Sano went on. "Not many, but a couple. And once you got past the hate, the fear, and the legends, one of them told me something that actually made sense. He said - it wasn't the sword skill that made them what they were. That was just a bonus. Something that made it more likely they'd last long enough to crack."

Woven knuckles were white.

"He said," Sano said quietly, deliberately, "That what makes a hitokiri isn't the body. It's the mind. Something in your head that isn't the same as the rest of us. Something that lets you pick a guy out of a crowd and decide this isn't a human. This is a _target_, and it's going to die."

Kenshin flinched.

"I can't imagine what that's like," Sano admitted. "I tried, once or twice. Stopped pretty quick. That was... scary."

"Good." Pain and loathing lurked in Kenshin's voice. "Don't try. You should never try that. You should never _be_ that."

"Kenshin. All the fights I've been in with you? All the people I've hated down the years, before you knocked some sense into my head?" Sano snorted. "If I can't go into a fight wanting to kill somebody after all that, it's not going to happen."

"You can't be sure, Sano." Violet eyes creased with old grief. "Not when I am near. You can _never_ be sure. My ki... even when I conceal it, it reaches out to those around me. Sweeps them up, to burn and blaze when the battle is fiercest. I saw it happen in the Revolution. It was part of why so many feared me, even after I left the shadows. Especially after. For when they fought by my side, and I allowed Battousai full hold, riding the wave of steel and fury... they were lost in it." He looked down at his hands. "And they killed, as they never would have had I not been there."

"But they lived," Sano argued.

"Some of them would rather have died." Kenshin drew in salt air. "They feared me. They hated me. I was a demon loose amongst them, and deep in their souls, they knew it. And to consort too long with demons is to risk becoming one yourself."

__

Okay, we have guilt here. Why? Jou-chan's her usual tanuki bad-tempered self, Megumi says Misao's protected by Aoshi from other youkai, and I know I'm _fine. And the only other human in our bunch is-_ "Benkai?" Sano ventured.

Lips a thin line, Kenshin nodded. "Aoshi says his scent started shifting just before Demona trapped me. Saitou thinks it's settled now, but they both say it has changed. Mostly human, but... a trace of it is _ryuu-hanyou._ Like mine."

Sano bit back the urge to wipe sweaty palms on his pants. _All those fights we took on together... kami, I really didn't know what I was risking, did I?_ "Does he know?"

"Aa."

"He doesn't hate you," Sanosuke said pointedly.

Violet winced. "He should."

"Why?" Sano asked flatly. "Damn it, Kenshin, when are you going to get it through your head that we _want_ to follow you? That - k'so, we're better people because you're here? Because we see how damn _hard_ you fight to stay a good guy, when it'd be easy to just slip into _Aku Zoku San_ and never try to understand why someone like Megumi might fall into the shadows, or how you might get her out."

"Sano-" Words died, as red hair snapped to the side, listening. "We have a problem."

-

__

So close.

It sang to her on the wind as Demona crouched on the rigging above the dead and the dying, staring over night-hued waves as the dead hands on the helm drove her vessel toward the enemy.

__

So close. Wait... wait... now!

She leapt into clear air just as hull crashed against hull, sailors screaming, wood and metal howling protest. The gargoyle couldn't help but laugh. It would take them some minutes to realize their vessel was injured, but in no real danger - and by that time she would have slain them all-

__

"Pull!"

Chains and ropes swept through the wind, swatting the astonished gargoyle to the deck like an angry mosquito.

"Nice, Aoshi-sama!" a bright female voice chirped.

"Hmm."

Demona struggled against the net of chains, snarling ancient Pictish curses against the Weird Sisters and all their fay ilk. Immortal she might be, yet she no longer had all the wild strength of a gargoyle. _Most_ of it, yes, but not that last wisp that would let her tear apart steel like rotten wood. _If only I had the power Macbeth's curse stole from me..._ "Release me!"

"Why the hells should we?" Sanosuke growled back. "You tried to kill us. You tried to kill Jou-chan, and she never did anything to you!" He punched a bandaged fist into his palm. "We stopped you. We told you all we wanted was to walk away. We left you so _you_ could walk away, damn it! You think we didn't know you wouldn't stay dead? We could have sliced you into bite-sized sashimi chunks and scattered you over every road from Red Creek to Seoul. The wolf over there probably would've enjoyed it!"

Saitou's teeth gleamed, fang-like in the starlight. "There is a certain satisfaction in... pest control."

"Enjoy the taste of victory while it lasts, halfling," Demona hissed. "I will be there when it turns to ash in your mouth. I will wait, and watch, and make your nights a living hell. And your children's nights, and their babes who will die with blood in their mouths-"

A wolf's snarl broke from the man. Steel sang free.

"Stop."

Battousai strode across the deck to face her, eyes a cold flame that seared her soul. "Children." His voice was empty of emotion. It might have been the sea wind, singing down the first whispers of storm. "You would hunt down our children. Innocents, who have never done you or yours harm."

__

Why am I trembling? Halfling, yes, with the magic of Oberon's kind in his veins, but he has no spells. Not like the Magus. All he can do is kill me.

__

Why do I fear this man?

It didn't matter. "There are no innocents!"

Amber met her gaze. Read something there, and nodded slightly. "_Sayonara_, Demona-san."

She barely felt the tanto slide home.

__

Pain. Steel in my heart-

Battousai stepped back.

__

Blood in my lungs-

Hard hands grabbed her; Aoshi's grim, Saitou's full of fury. Chains rattled, swung as they lifted.

__

Wind over my skin. Salt spray from waves against the hull - no!

__

"Hiyahh!"

Strong arms hurled her over the side. The shock of chill water closed over her head; she tried to fight, tried to struggle against the weight of steel dragging her into the depths of the straits of Japan.

__

I can't die here-

Darkness took her down.

-

"So..." Sano drawled, staring at the patch of ocean falling behind them as their ship raced for Japan. "You think that'll do it?"

Saitou growled under his breath. "Unlikely." _I'll have to warn Tokio. And the children. And given that creature has magic enough to distort ki sense - time to dust off the plans for nightingale floors._

"It should take some years for the blade to rust free," Battousai said bluntly. "By then, our trail should be cold."

"There has to be a better way." Kaoru hugged herself against the night wind. "If only we knew _why_..."

"It might not make a difference. Some folk can't be saved, beloved." Himura put an arm around her. "For now, we have time. Perhaps she will abandon her hate. Perhaps she will never wake out of the deeps; running water has power to break many malign spells."

Saitou cast him a disgusted look. "And _perhaps_ she'll be back to slash us in the night, Battousai."

The redhead shrugged, amber gleaming in violet. "What else is a sword for?"

-

Notes:

__

Sayonara - "If it must be so." Sometimes used for "goodbye".

__

Tori atama - "Rooster-head".

Nightingale floors are an interesting low-tech alarm in Japanese castle architecture; they're designed to squeak if stepped on.


	6. Chapter 6

"Land," Kaoru said faintly, sandal tracing patterns in the dust of the path leading to Ishimura with a sigh of relief.

Kenshin rubbed her back, still disturbed. "I thought you did not get seasick, koishii."

"I don't. Usually." Kaoru gave him a wan smile. "Maybe it's just that we had to take more than one boat, so close together."

"I suppose it must be." There was certainly nothing wrong with her ki; it glowed beside him, warm and welcome. And they had originally planned to leave their borrowed vessel and spend some quiet time in Yokohama, resting and regrouping before they tried to determine their next move. A plan that had shattered with their first sight of the local newspapers.

__

Ghosts of Revolution spotted in Yokohama Harbor! a lurid headline had screamed.

"Scratch _that_ idea," Sano had commented dryly.

So now they were trailing Benkai and the others on their way into Ishimura, bringing enspelled eggs and one small stone statue to a place they might find homes. _Life out of death,_ Kenshin thought with a smile. _At least we have done this much._

Although he could not say he was truly looking forward to dealing with a whole clan of creatures like Demona.

__

They helped raise Benkai, Kenshin reminded himself, deliberately not reacting as the first villagers caught sight of his hair and the whispers began. _They cannot be truly evil._

"...Gaijin..."

He felt Battousai stir at that whisper, then reluctantly subside. It wasn't a threat. Yet.

"Enomouto Benkai." Iemochi Shige, the gray-haired village headman of Ishimura; still straight and tall, but leaning on a crutch for a leg that had once, so Benkai said, been caught between a boulder and the rising sea. "Your family said you were... away."

Which was a reasonably civil way of asking what the _hell_ a young private was doing AWOL all the way from Korea, Kenshin reflected. _With fortune, Aoshi's contacts will work soon,_ he thought. _We've enough trouble without the young man needing to flee for desertion._

"Well..." Benkai whipped a concealing rug off a small, furry stone form. "That's a long story."

"...So as far as we know, once you touch them with this seal, the spell will be broken and the eggs will hatch," young Benkai concluded, kneeling before the clan and village leaders.

__

Hmm. Not so young anymore, Tomi thought, grateful his skills with sword instead of claw left him standing as one of clan leader Uyeda's quiet guards in the shadows. Once you got past a hundred and ten, the bones got a bit creaky for kneeling in council, that they did.

Not to mention that from the shadows, he could watch his former pupil to his heart's content. _So you've finally found the teacher you needed_, the elderly red gargoyle thought, hiding a smile. _A youkai's own mate._

Good. It's been too long since our youngsters had a real challenge.

The blue-eyed swordswoman might have taken her place as Benkai's sensei, but there was no doubt her demon husband had staked his own claim on the young man's spirit. The changed flow of ki around the young swordsman was unmistakable, fresh and delicate as a spring breeze. Eventually Benkai would learn to conceal it, but for now - ah, for now it was pleasant just to sense.

__

Another soul has embraced the blade, Tomi thought, pleased. _But how did they win you to it? Your heart has ever been too kind for Bushido. You were a farmer born, not samurai or gargoyle. We fight because it is what we_ are. _You could only fight for-_ He stifled a scowl at the indignity of it. _-Another's life._

Yet if his elders' teachings were true, it was the most innocent who could be corrupted the deepest. Those who would not fight for honor lacked the mortal darkness that would balance their souls. If they did fight, if they were driven to that last extreme and killed to defend another... ah, then the demon power might well find its way into their spirits. And once youki nested in a mortal soul, it would take a miko of legend to pry it out once more.

__

Samurai do not become youkai. Goblins, perhaps - if their treachery and dishonor is great - but not youkai. Uyeda has no idea what peril kneels before him.

Again, good. The youngsters needed a good shaking-up. _Modern times_, they said. _The dangers of the Tokugawa Shogunate are long past_, they said. _The legends of the Sengoku Jidai are only that - legends, past and done._

Hmph. They'd learn.

"So far as you know?" Uyeda said sternly. The gargoyle clan leader had a face fierce as an oni's, wild black hair wreathing his horns before a silken hair-tie forced it back into a proper topknot.

Benkai swallowed nervously. "Well, we didn't want to try it on the boat..."

"Wise," Uyeda commented, settling sky-blue wings over slate-gray shoulders. The clan leader lost his grim expression for just an instant, trading a quick wink with Shige out of Benkai's view. "Well. I'd say we have much to discuss, Iemochi-san."

"Indeed." Shige looked equally stern, as if he were a breath away from ordering the whole lot of them clapped in irons. "Perhaps we should take tea."

A few more bland pleasantries, and the bulk of the meeting dispersed. Tomi raised a ridged brow at his clan leader, took Uyeda's quiet nod as permission to go.

__

I have a youkai to track down.

It was surprisingly easy. All he had to do was follow hatchlings' laughter; human and gargoyle alike.

"Okita Souji!" Tomi recognized young Fudo's voice, serious as a seven-year-old going on eight could be. "Squad leader of the Shinsengumi! We have you now!"

"Ah; but a wolf of Mibu is not so easily captured!" Red hair blazed above paired sticks as they swooped like swords, parrying and thrusting at his mob of attackers.

__

Gentle blows, but accurate, Tomi noted with approval. All of these children had some training with the blade; it'd be an insult to them and their teachers if this stranger deliberately fought badly...

The pattern of thrusts caught his trained eye, and Tomi drew in a sharp breath. _Gatotsu. He's not just playing the enemy - he's fighting as a Shinsengumi!_

"Not his preferred style," the lean, wolf-like man who called himself Fujita Goro noted, appearing at Tomi's side with barely a ripple in the surrounding ki. "But they did ask him to play the _villain_." Irony wafted from his tone, thick and bitter as the smoke of his cigarette.

"But why would Bat-"

Wolf-yellow eyes choked the name in Tomi's throat. "How many of you know?" Goro asked quietly.

"I doubt most of the younger ones would believe, if I told them," Tomi said dryly. "When I was hatched, youkai... well, they weren't common, but most people saw them at least once in their lifetime. These days, all I can think is that they're dead or hiding." He measured Fujita with wise eyes. "Or hiding in plain sight."

"As much as Himura can hide anywhere," Fujita said, just as dry. "Shinomori and I have places to go, but I doubt Takani or the rooster-head are going to let Himura out of their sight. How many secrets can your village conceal?"

Tomi took in the policeman's uniform, the stance that said samurai, and felt himself set at ease. _This man knows the old ways. If he can survive in this new Japan... we can as well._ "How hard are they looking for him?"

"They shouldn't be. It was known for a long time that he was failing; the damn fool almost _did_ die. And given the circumstances, no one should have suspected anything when his son burned the bodies unviewed."

"Disease?" Tomi tried not to gape; it'd be undignified in a gargoyle of his years. "A youkai?"

"Ryuu-hanyou. And Benkai can tell you about the curse." A lupine smile shadowed Fujita's features as the redhead fell to laughing bodies. "Well?"

"Uyeda-san will have to know," Tomi said firmly, as Kaoru waded into the fray to rescue her husband. "But I am interested in Kamiya-sensei's techniques. We're not attacking castles anymore. Perhaps a master of _katsujin-ken_ might honor us with a sojourn in our dojo, so we might all advance our knowledge of the Way."

"Perhaps." Fujita drew in a breath of smoke. "It's likely they'll have visitors here within a few weeks. One in particular." Gray wisps vanished into night. "Do yourselves a favor. Make sure they meet somewhere expendable."

"Sanosuke!" Stepping up onto the engawa of the small house on the edge of this odd village, Yahiko caught the older man in a bruising hug, grinning until it felt like his face would split. _Damn, I'm almost as tall as he is, now!_ "Gods, they _found_ you..."

"Yeah, the fox-woman tied me up and hauled me home," the fighter said plainly, scruffing up his hair. "She'll come when she can, but she's working partners with the local doctor, Oisha, and they've got a birth going on the other side of the village. Could take all night." He looked past the young master of Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, to the small redhead with the sakabatou at his side. "Damn. Knew there'd be a resemblance, but this - something else. Kenji? I guess you probably don't remember me..."

"Uncle - Sano?" The youngest master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu looked even younger than his age. "You were so much bigger - erk!"

"You're okay. You're really okay." Sano held Kenji tightly. "When your mother told me what was going on, you tracking down Hiko, facing off with Yahiko... I was worried about you, kid. _Had_ to get the temper from both sides of the family - you've got luck as bad as your father, I swear-"

"He's here," Kenji said flatly. "I can feel him."

Sano reluctantly let go, stepping back to meet dark blue eyes. "Would it help if I told you I know he's sorry?"

One pale fist clenched. "What do you think?"

Yahiko winced. "He had reasons, Kenji-"

"Then he can keep them!" the young redhead flared. "I'm here to see 'Kaasan. To make sure she's okay. I don't need to hear his _reasons_-"

"I would that were so," a long-lost, familiar voice said quietly. "But you must. Both of you."

__

Kenshin. Yahiko moved forward without thinking, heading for the one place in the world that had always been safe. Hair like a maple leaf flowing downstream, a cross-shaped scar, eyes peaceful wells of violet...

The small swordsman returned his embrace, ki touching his like a ripple of rainwater. _I know you. I care for you._

__

I love you.

"Nice trick," Kenji said bitterly. "Too bad for you it won't work on someone who knows Hiten Mitsurugi..." He got his first good look, and stepped back, hand on his hilt.

"It is no trick." Kenshin released Yahiko, movements deliberately slow, unthreatening. "As I have said. There are things you must know." He glanced at the horizon. "But only within walls."

"And so, you both likely have youkai blood in your veins," Kenshin concluded, staring into his cooling tea. "Blood that puts you at risk, whenever lives and swords clash. A risk I felt, but did not know... and so I wandered, praying not to draw the death that seemed to follow me to you, Kenji." He bowed his head. "I was wrong."

"You think that's it?" His son's voice was firm, strong. Only his ki betrayed his turmoil. "You think that's enough?"

"Kenji-" Yahiko tried to intervene.

"No!" Kenji smacked his cup down. "You could have stayed. You could have _tried_."

Kaoru's eyes narrowed. "Kenji, that's enough!"

"You're still defending him? _Haha-ue_, I can't believe you're still defending him! Just because he didn't think he could stay around without shedding blood again - you could have taught me, both of you! Japan's at peace, now; I'm not going to kill anyone."

"You're not listening, damn it!" Sano jumped in.

"I am listening! I'm just not him! Just because _he_ lost himself to this - this demon _bloodlust_ when he was fourteen because he was enough of an idiot to become an assassin-"

"Eight," Kenshin said quietly. "I... lost myself... when I was eight."

The knot of argument stilled; Sano's hand locked in Kenji's blue gi, his son's fingers knotted in the fighter's wild black hair. "Say what?" Sano said at last.

Kenshin set his cup down, not trusting his hands. "When I was near seven, cholera swept our village," he began. "Many sickened and died. My parents among them. I... I not only survived, I did not even fall ill. It was - unnatural. Inhuman. And so, when the orphans of the village were taken in by those who had lost their children... there was no place for me." He shrugged, trying not to feel. _It is over. It is done._ "The village needed money for those families that remained. I was exotic. Possibly worth something, in places which cater to those with such... tastes. And so I was sold."

"Kenshin." Kaoru pressed a hand to her lips.

"I was fortunate," Kenshin went on deliberately. "I was worked hard, like everyone in the caravan, but the slavers did not receive an enticing enough offer. Though that might have changed, had they reached Kyoto... but the bandits attacked us first."

__

I can see it like yesterday...

"I didn't know what the screams were, at first. But I felt them. Burning. Enticing. Confusing. I was - pulled. And repelled. I didn't know what was happening to me. I could only feel, and shake, as if the ground under me carried the rumble of an avalanche..."

The scent of jasmine came with the warmth of a chin on his shoulder, as Kaoru wrapped her arms around him.

"And then they were on us, and it burned. Sakura, Kasumi, Akane... they needed someone. They needed a sword. My sword...

"But they would not let me kill. They protected me. With their own lives. Long enough for Hiko to happen on the massacre, and kill every bandit that stood against him." Kenshin closed his eyes. "And from that day forward, something in me has always sought the taste of blood."

Silence. Broken only by a sharp, hurt breath from Yahiko, the first ripple of dawning belief in Kenji's ki.

"Iidzuka asked me, after my first kill, if I could bear it," Kenshin said in a low whisper. "I told him I felt - nothing. And it was true, in a way. I felt - quieted. Still. The burning within me, the fire that had _always_ burned, since that day, that grew to the point of pain before I argued with Hiko and left his teachings... it eased. Burned lower. Cooler. Until the next black envelope came, and I knew it was time to kill again..."

"Kenshin, stop it!" Kaoru held him fiercely. "It's over. You're not him anymore!"

"That time is over, yes, beloved. The assassin is dead." Kenshin met deep blue eyes; so like Kaoru's, so like his own. "But a hitokiri is a hitokiri until death. And that curse, that choice, lies in your very blood. There were always those who hunted me; if I had been forced to face them, to _kill_ them, near you-" Fists clenched, he looked away.

Cloth rustled. Soft footfalls echoed on the polished floor. "Father."

Kenshin wrapped an arm around his son, leaning into the sudden lack of anger in Kenji's ki. Not forgiveness. Not yet. But... understanding.

__

More than I had ever hoped for.

Reluctantly, Kenji pulled back. "I - took care of things in Tokyo, but I can't stay away from Kyoto too much longer," he started awkwardly.

"There's a girl," Yahiko said dryly.

"Yahiko!"

"Is she cute?" Sano stuck in.

__

"Uncle Sano!"

"I should've picked another husband. He blushes as easily as _you_ do." Kaoru disentangled herself, hand still resting on Kenshin's. "If you have to go, Kenji, go and be safe. Just make sure you can make it back here in... oh, about seven months."

"Seven months?" Kenshin drew back enough to give her a good look. If he wasn't mistaken, there was a certain disquieting tanuki mischief in her smile.

"After all," Yes, _definitely_ mischief in that grin, "You ought to make a good niisan."

Niisan. Bright ki. _Morning sickness_...

"Oro!"

__

Thump.

Hard floor. Very hard.

"Did he just...?" Kenji stammered.

"You should've seen him when she told him about _you_," Yahiko said wryly. "Breakfast. Tofu and rice everywhere. At least this time there weren't any knives on the floor when he hit it!"

__

Owari

__

Gaijin - foreigner. Not a polite term.

__

Haha-ue - (One's own) mother.

__

Owari - end.


End file.
